Life after
by jewlbird
Summary: Katniss and Peeta's life after the Games and rebelion. Follow the two as their lives develop for the better and the worse.    *New Chapters*
1. Chapter 1

**Okay guys, this is my first fanfic, so go easy on me! But let me know what you think!**

**Oh, yeah, I don't own the Hunger Games. Or any of the characters. But I do own about 10 boxes of thin mints.**

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***Katniss' POV***

" Bet I can beat you down the hill, Katniss," Peeta taunts. I roll my eyes.

"Fat chance, Peeta," I say.

We're in District 3, home of little electronic doodads that fascinate me, and openly bore my husband, Peeta Mellark. Haymitch, Peeta, and I have stayed comfortable in District 12, though we were forced to stay there directly after the war ended. Despite the fact that horrible memories swim in my home, it's very nice. We are all Victors, so we live in Victor's Village. After the bombings in 12, the ashes and bodies were plowed into the ground and we have a new hospital and our main export is now medicine, instead of coal, since the mines have collapsed. My mother buries herself in her work to block out the grief and pain in this world and works at a hospital in 4. We plan to visit her soon, and I tried to get her to find a job at the new hospital in 12, but there are too many bad memories.

My ex-best friend, Gale Hawthorne, lives in District 2 now. The pet of the Capitol. How ironic that he would work there. He used to be my pet, my favorite, my constant companion, my best friend. I even thought I was in love with him, but, as he pointed out years ago, we'll never no if it was his bomb that killed my sister, but it was his idea and I cannot stop myself from associating that with him. We can't be together anymore, but that doesn't matter. I don't need him because I have Peeta. The most wonderful man any woman could ever ask for. So is Haymitch, our mentor from the Games. He's like a father to us. He would never let get hurt or do anything stupid. Or let us have any fun, for that matter.

"Slow it down, kids," Haymitch says. "No racing on my watch."

Peeta and I look at each other, sparing a quick glance at Haymitch. Peeta's face breaks into a mischievous grin.

"One," I say.

"Hey!" Haymitch interjects.

"Two," Peeta whispers.

"Three!" We say together.

"You kids are going to regret this!" calls Haymitch after us.

Our camera man races after us. You'd think that after all these years the people would have gotten tired of us, but the cameras always there, wanting to know what we're up to. They televised our wedding and our first wedding anniversary. I don't mind, and Haymitch always says we could use the extra attention. Peeta tries to act indifferent about it, but I can tell he wishes these events were private.

I race down the hill, my hair whipping in my face. I wish that it was in it's braid. I'm over taking Peeta, obviously. The terrain is rocky, with almost no grass. There is a brick retaining wall that is getting higher as we go down the hill. I'm about to kick off my high heels when Peeta's in my ear.

"Slowing down?" He whispers.

"No," I say, not bothering to look at him. Instead of getting the heels off, I just kick up a bunch of dust. Behind me, Peeta spits. I meant to do that.

I turn back and see Peeta wiping dirt out off his mouth, just long enough to lose my footing.

My ankle twists and I feel a horrifying snap. Before I can even scream out in pain, I realize I'm heading for the wall. I can hear Peeta's footsteps with precision, him calling out for me. My head connects with the wall.

With a searing pain, everything goes black.

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_***Peeta's POV***_

"One."

"Hey!"

"Two."

"Three!"

"You kids are going to regret this!"

I'm already much ahead of my wife, Katniss, who I have had to fight so hard to have.

Gale, two Games, wars, we've both sustained injuries so bad that I'm surprised I can even run on my fake leg, let alone faster than her. And that she can hear out of her left ear.

She's passing me now, and I whisper in her ear, which is right in front of me, "Slowing down?"

"No." Dust is flying at me. It gets all up in my face and in my mouth. I spit.

She looks back at me for a split second, but it's long enough. She loses her footing and her ankle twists. She doesn't cry out, she doesn't have time to before her head bashes into the wall next to us.

I don't remember how I got there, but I'm by her side, screaming for help, fighting back tears. She's unconscious, her ankle swelling rapidly, and blood flowing freely through a deep cut on her head.

Haymitch was right: We did regret this later.

"Help!" I scream. "She's not breathing! HELP!"

"Slow down, Blonde," says Haymitch. I'm not really sure how or when he got there. "She's breathing, calm down. Wipe your face before the camera sees!" he adds in a hiss. The tears are out of my eyes. I roughly drag my sleeve across my face.

"She's going to be fine," He assures me, striping off his jacket and pressing it to her head wound. "She's probably won't come to for a while— We need medical attention here!" He snaps at the camera man. "The girl is bleeding herself into a coma!" I gasp. Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Don't be such a girly girl! Man up and help your wife!" He thrust the bloody jacket into my hands. I keep it pressed to her head, observing her pale, expressionless face which is usually so full of life and love. This has to be worst day of my life.

Haymitch returns in a few minutes; it's clear that Katniss can't afford to lose much more blood.

"The EMTs are on their way," he pants.

I don't think she can hold on that much longer. I might not be able to. I'm trebling from head to foot.

"Calm down, kid, she'll be fine." Haymitch says uncomfortably. He isn't the consoling type.

When the EMTs finally come, they have a hard time prying me off of her. I may have diminished her chances of survival. It's mortifying to me that she could survive _two _Hunger Games and be killed by a stupid game of my creation.

I'm about to climb in the ambulance after Haymitch when one of the EMTs touches my arm.

"Only one," she says gently.

Haymitch looks at me desperately, obviously out of his comfort zone.

The ambulance doors shut and it races down the hill at top speed, leaving my eyes trailing it all the way out of sight.

The reporters swarm me.

"Mr. Mellark, how do you feel about this-?"

"No comment," I say dully, striding to my car.

The reporters won't leave me alone until I start driving away, my horn bleating the whole way.

After a grueling five minutes I burst into the hospital waiting room.

Haymitch is waiting for me.

"How are you holding up?" He asks.

Disredarding his question I ask, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"I'm not sure you want to see her just yet," He says. "That wall did a nasty job on her head and-"

"Where is she?" I snarl, cutting him off.

"There still stiching her up."

I collapse into a chair, my head in my hands. _She's tough, _I tell myself, _she'll hold out._ It seems I'm good at convincing everyone but myself.

"We need to tell her mother," I say after a long pause.

"I already did," says Haymitch. He's looking at magazine. "She'll be here tommorow; she's busy at work."

Katniss' mother works at a hospital in District 4. Unlike Katniss, she loves hospitals.

I sleep through the remainder of the day; they try to kick me and Haymitch out after hours when they find out nothing is wrong with us, but Haymitch convinces the woman that we are going to stay. He probably scared her.

The next day in the afternoon, a nurse ask me if I can come back to Katniss' room. I look around for Haymitch, but he's not there.

"Don't be alarmed, but she's having some issues," says the nurse as we approach the door.

Issues? This can't be good.

She opens the door. Haymitch is trying to calm a writhing and convulsing Katniss. The strange thing is she's unconsious still.

"Peeta," Haymitch warns, but I step up anyway put her hand in mine. She calms instantly.

It's like she can sense my presence or something.

Haymitch sighs. "Good job, Peeta," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "Her mother is coming this afternoon. I'll be back then." He exits the room.

I sit down on the chair next to the bed, not letting go of Katniss' hand.

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"Peeta," says a kind voice. It sounds like Katniss. "Peeta," it repeats. No, it's not Katniss. I open my eyes. It's her mother.

"Hi, Darla," I yawn. I've fallen asleep with my face on the bed. Katniss' hand is still in mine.

"How are you, Peeta?"

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm just a little worried about her," she gesture to the bed. She smiles weakily. "She always finds some way to injure herself."

**Before I can explain that it was in fact my fault, Haymitch comes back in.**

"Darla," He says."Peeta, you need to eat. I think two people can hold down the fort here."

Darla touches my arm. "We'll get you if she wakes up. You can go to the cafe."

I nod.

I've barely gotten down the hall 30 feet when Haymitch crashes into me.

"She's screaming for you."

Together we dash back to the room.

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More where that came from! I hope you liked it! :) Please REVIEW! :)

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	2. Chapter 2

**OK, Chapter 2! Let's go! yay! But seriously I'm really excited. I'm going to North Carolina! But I don't think I can bring my computer with me. :/ I will update ASAP, so don't bug me about it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the characters.**

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*Katniss' POV*

My head aches dully.

"Peeta," I groan.

"Peeta's on his way, Kat, just hold on," my mom? What's she doing here?

"Peeta," I repeat.

The door bursts open.

"Peeta's about to get here, sweetheart," comes Haymitch's voice. He's stroking my hair.

"I'm here now," Peeta soothes, his hand replaces Haymitch's, stroking my hair. "Shhh." He starts humming the Meadow song.

My mother smiles, suddenly looking older, and more tired. She leans her head against Haymitch's shoulder.

I slowly relax, suddenly not able to keep my eyes open. I lull off into a sweet, dreamless sleep.

My eyes flutter open. I have no idea how long I've been asleep, or even how long I've been here. I start to take in my surroundings.

I'm in a hospital; I've been able to work that much out for myself. In District 3? I guess. My eyes wander the pale green walls, the machine that's beeping and keeping track of my heart rate, and finally fall on Peeta. He's fallen asleep on a chair next to my bed. My nose tingles with the scent of… A hospital. I can't stand the smell. My eyelids droop; I'm drowsy from the medicine.

"Katniss," a nurse sticks her head in the door. "Someone's here to see you."

_Who can that be?_ My eyes fall on one of the most handsome people I have ever seen in my life. Gale Hawthorne.

A thousand questions flick through my head at once. How does he know I'm here? What does he want? Has his name been cleared?

Three years ago, when the rebellion was coming to a close, a building full of children was bombed in the Capitol. One of them was my sister, Prim. She was acting as a medical aid for refugees. She was hardly 13 years old.

This would have been devastating enough, losing my sister. Until I found out that is may have been bombs that Gale had created that killed all those children. And my sister. I was never able to look at Gale in the same way.

"I don't want to see you, Gale," I say, my voice like ice. How did he get in here, anyway? They couldn't be letting just anyone see a Victor. My mother must have told him. I remind myself to get mad at her later. Right now I'm overcome by curiosity and cold.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Gale explains calmly. He knows how I feel about him, and he knows that I have every right to. "It was a job getting in here. I was just about to give up when your mom saw me."

I frown. "Why didn't you come to see me for so long?" I inquire. "You could have come when I didn't have a bandage wrapped around my head."

He smiles. "I thought you… wouldn't be too happy to see me."

"Well, you thought right," I say. "I'm sorry, Gale," I add more softly.

"Sorry? For what?" He sounds confused.

"Sorry things will never be the same between us." And I truly am sorry that Gale and I will never hunt together again. I'm sorry we'll never share secrets with each other again. That we'll never laugh together, or go swimming in the lake in the Meadow. I'm sorry that the wall between us will never be broken down. I want to tell him but I just can't.

Peeta stirs.

"I bet he won't be too happy to see me," He says ruefully.

I don't say anything, as I'm unsure what Peeta's reaction to Gale would be.

"I wanted you to know," Gale continues, "I'm getting married next weekend. The right time to tell you just never came up and I didn't want to leave you in the dark."

Gale. Married. I'm surprised that it hasn't happened yet. "Congratulations," I say. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Her name's Dianne. Dianne Cresta. I've never met anyone like her."

Dianne Cresta. The name sounds familiar.

"Annie Cresta's little sister?" I ask.

"That's the one."

Annie Cresta. One of the last remaining Victors. She had survived the Games by hiding in the forest until the other had been picked off. Poor girl had been driven mad by seeing the other tribute from her District beheaded. That's why she was hiding. The Capitol cured her insanity, and she fell in love with another Victor from her District, Finnick Odair. He was killed on a mission for the rebellion that Peeta and I had been on.

I sigh. "I don't think they're going to let me out any time soon."

He nods.

"Tell Dianne I with you two the best."

"Well, it was nice seeing you Katniss," says Gale.

"You too," I say. "I really am sorry."

As soon as Gale leaves, my mother comes in.

"Did you have a nice conversation with Gale?" She asks. That's my mom, always eager to know what's going on with me.

I just shrug.

"Did he tell you he's getting married? He told me he wanted his old hunting partner there, just for old times sake."

"I don't think I'm going to get out of here that quickly. What's my condition, anyway?"

My mom looks reluctant to tell me. "You have a bad concussion."

"What else is new?" I've had concussions before. Several in fact.

"You've been out for a day and a half. And then some."

Peeta stirs again. My mom stands up.

"I guess I'll be going," she says, heading for the door.

"Don't go home yet!" I plead

"I'm not going home yet."

"Hmm?" Peeta grunts. "Did I miss something?"

"Gale's getting married. To Annie's little sister."

"Oh. You okay? You've been out for-"

"A day and a half, I know."

Peeta's eyes cloud over and he grips the arm of his chair. I hate this. Remnants of the Games. Peeta's flashbacks come on randomely. After a while, his eyes slide back inot focus.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"f

"You could paint about it," I suggest. "Or you could bake a cake. I definetly wouldn't mind a cake."

He smiles and kisses me. I kiss him back greedily. Because he's mine. My Peeta, the best man in the world.

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**Another short one, but I swear, the next one will be longer! I have it all written down, the only problem is typing it out on my computer. So there's more. I'm just a slow typer :D**

**PLEASE reveiw :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've been having writer's block lately. I have everything written down, but half of it make no sense!**

**Anyway..**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the characters.**

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***Katniss' POV* **

"Peeta," I complain. "I'm exhausted." I start to get up, but then fall back to the couch.

"Come on," Peeta says, taking my hand. "You'll love it. The baby will love it, too."

"The baby can't even see it," I grumble.

We leave Victor's Village and enter town.

Yes, after eight years I have finally given in to Peeta's pathetic plea for children. I wouldn't have objected for so long if he was the one who had to carry it/he/she.

Peeta stops in front of his bakery. He points at a cake in the window.

"Isn't it beautiful?" He asks.

I have to admit, it is. "Yeah," I sigh.

The cake is spectacular. There's a mockingjay on top, beautiful curtains of frosting down the sides, and intricate flowers piped all over it. It's very harmonic.

"Do you like it?" He asks, placing a hand on my bloated stomach.

"It's really prett-" I cut myself off with a scream.

"What?" Peeta exclaims. "Did I feel something… Move?"

I nod, horrified. It moved.

Peeta is practically jumping up and down. "Move again."

"God no!" I gasp.

"Aren't you excited?" He asks.

"_You _have no idea what it feels like to have something moving inside you!"

He shrugs.

"Freaky," I mutter.

We're on our way home and Peeta is chattering about how we're going to do all this stuff like baby-proofing the house. I'm not very interested.

When we return home, Haymitch is watching television.

"Haymitch," I call. "We're back. We're having lunch in twenty minutes!"

He just grunts.

I enter the kitchen, and Peeta is rooting out the cabinets.

"What are you _doing?_" I seethe.

"Baby-proofing," He says simply, his head in the cabinet still.

"The baby isn't going to be able to reach up there!"

Peeta emerges with an armfull of bottles. He exits the house and goes into the front yard. I draw the curtains away from the kitchen window.

I gasp in surprise.

Peeta is smashing every single one of the liquor bottles on the concrete of the driveway. Haymitch is not going to be happy.

I'm about to inform Haymitch when Peeta marches inside and beats me to it.

"Haymitch," he announces, "I got rid of all the liquor in the house. There will be no drinking here when there's a baby coming."

Haymitch doesn't respond in words. Instead, he stands up and punches Peeta in the face without warning.

"Hey!" I exclaim.

Peeta stands up too and throws three punches at Haymitch, one hitting his face and the other two catching him square in the gut.

"Enough!" I bellow authoritively, stepping between them. "Don't ever do that again! Haymitch, don't worry, I'll get you more liquor."

"You're taking his side!" Peeta asks. There's a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. I remind myself never to get between Haymitch and his liquor. "It's not like Ripper is going to sell to a pregnant woman."

"Want to bet?" I challange. When he doesn't answer I say, "Didn't think so."

I go to the kitchen and get to ice bags. I throw one to Peeta, the other to Haymitch.

"How's Little Guy doing?" Haymitch asks, pressing the ice pack to his blacked eye, completely disregarding the fight that just took place.

If you're wondering who Little Guy is, that's the wonderful name the baby has adopted. It's just great.

"The baby moved today!" Peeta bluts out.

"Good," Haymitch says. "Now I know my Little Guy's alive in there."

"And we're going to see if the baby is a boy or a girl next week," Peeta announces.

This is news to me. "We are?"

He nods.

* * *

As Peeta said, we go to the Capitol next week and find out...

"The baby is a girl, Haymitch," I say as we come in the front door. I know he's here. We've been gone all day, even though we took a hovercraft, courtesy of President Easton, the Paylor, who took over after I killed President Coin. Of course, a camera crew follows us the whole way, documenting every second of our day until the moment we walked through the door. Peeta thinks it's an invasion of privacy, but I don't mind. "So you can stop calling her 'Little Guy.'"

"Mhmm."

The phone rings. Peeta answers.

"Peeta, who's on the phone?"

"No one."

I sigh and go in to the hallway. He holds the phone over his head.

Haymitch comes in and starts laughing his head off.

"Is this a bad time to ask for dinner?"

"Nope," I reply, snaching the phone out of Peeta's hand.

"She's good," I hear Haymitch murmur.

I smile.

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**Shorter than the previous ones, but it took me forever to write this! If you see and errors, let me know and will fix them and avoid making them again. Review and let me know what you think! I need feedback so I can make the next chapters even better!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the wait for an update, I had an uploading problem and then my computer crashed and I had to rewrite this whole chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the characters. But I do own this gigantic headache.**

**Happy New Year!**

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***Peeta's POV***

"Peeta," Katniss calls. "We need more milk."

"Are you sure? I just bought three cartons last week." I say. We avoid going into town as much as possible. Lately, we have been swarmed by reporters.

In reply to my question, Haymitch comes into the living room where I'm sitting and drains a cut of milk. He belches.

"Eww," says Katniss under her breath. "Haymitch drank it all."

"I need to go into the bakery today, anyway," I concede and get up.

"I need some more liquor," Haymitch says too loudly. "Milk doesn't cut it."

Katniss takes my hand and we leave the house.

It's not very far into town. It looks completely different from the years before the rebellion. The stores look cleaner and less run-down. The square is paved with alternating grey and brick-colored stones. The center of the square features a huge screen TV, and a large fountain.

By the time we reach it, however, we are surrounded.

Shopkeepers are coming out to see what all the commotion is.

"Over here!" Comes a voice off to the side. It's Greasy Sae, leaning out the door of her restaurant.

Katniss and I make a mad dash for the entrance, while Haymitch splits up with us to go see Ripper.

"Thanks, Sae," Katniss gasps, leaning against the counter.

"Grandma?" Sae's granddaughter, Selly, comes around the counter.

"It's no problem, Katniss, Peeta." Says Sae, putting an arm around her granddaughter's shoulder.

"Always a riot when you two come around," says a horse voice.

"Ripper?" I say, amused that all Haymitch will meet a Ripper's shop will be a locked door and a multitude of reporters.

"Yep."

"Haymitch just went to see you," Katniss says.

"Closed shop early today," She explains. "All those reporters sniffing around are bound to find a problem with my business dealings."

I can think a several things wrong with Sae's dealings, one being that she has no authorization to sell alcohol what so ever, another that she sells to Haymitch.

Katniss orders three bowls of soup and we wait for Haymitch.

He comes in huffing after a few minutes.

"It's a mob out there!" He declares. "Ripper wasn't even at her shop!"

"Not going to be open for the rest of the week," says Ripper.

Haymitch looks utterly horrified.

"You didn't need anymore liquor this week anyway," I say. He shakes his fist at me.

"Sit down and eat, Haymitch," Katniss says, indicating the soup on the bar counter.

Haymitch refuses, saying that he won't eat without alcohol.

Sae brings out a huge tankard of beer and soon Haymitch is out cold, his face in the bowl of soup.

Katniss looks exsasperated and move the bowl out from under him, leaving a puddle of soup and drool.

"Yuck!" She says under her breath.

We have to stay for a while at Sae's. I don't mind; it's a nice place. But Katniss seems restless.

"Can't we go now?" She complains.

After waiting for a about two hours, it's getting dark and there's only a few reporters milling around the square. We can easily slip past.

"Okay," I say getting up. "Let's go. Haymitch! Get up! We're leaving."  
"Hrmph," he grunts.

"Sorry about the counter," I apologize.

"It's fine," Sae sighs. "You should get home."

Instead of going back home, Haymitch follows Katniss and me back to our house and flops down on the couch.

"That was a complete waste of time!" Katniss fumes. "We could've stayed here! We didn't even get milk!"

"Calm down," I soothe. "I'll go tomorrow morning and get some."

"We could have decided that three hours ago!" She continues. "Instead we got trapped inside Sae's stuffy shop with Haymitch! For three hours!"

I'm about to reply when Posy, Gale's sister bursts in to the kitchen.

"Whoa, there," says Haymitch coming into the kitchen. "What did you guys break this time—oh, hello, Posy."

"Oh, oh, oh!" She gushes. "I'm sorry, I just had to come over and tell you!" Gale's mother, Hazelle, and his sixteen year old sister, Posy still come over and clean Haymitch's house once a week. Does it ever need it.

"Dianne had the baby!" What baby?

"Congratulations!" says Katniss.

"It was twins!" Twins? Gale already has two other kids.

Haymitch raises an eyebrow. "Twins," he states.

"Yes! They're both boys! Gale says there're adorable!"  
"I bet they are," Katniss says matter-of-factly. "They are Gale's kids."

"Oh my goodness!" Posy suddenly exclaims. "I ran all the way here right after I got off the phone with Gale! My mom doesn't even know I'm here!"

"I'll drive you home," I offer. "It'll only take a few minutes in the car."

"No," says Posy. "Mom is always yelling at me to get some exercise. I'll just run."

"It's almost dark, Pose," Katniss insists. "Peeta'll take you home."

"No, no," she says. "Either way Mom will kill me."

She leaves the house just as quickly as she came.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Typical," Katniss replies.

***Katniss' POV***

"R-real or not real?" Peeta stutters.

"Judging from how painful that was? Real." Not as painful as rupturing your spleen, but still very painful.

"She's beautiful," I murmur. I sigh contentedly. My child. My perfectly beautiful child.

Peeta and I just gaze at our baby until Haymitch comes in.

"Hey Little Guy," he says softly lifting her out of my arms. Grandpa Haymitch. "How are you, Mom?"

Me. Officially mom. I just shrug.

"She's tiny," Haymitch comments. "Especially for how big you were." I laugh. "And she looks sort of mixed up. Katniss' hair, Peeta's eyes. She's cute. Too bad I won't be hanging out at your house anymore."

"You could always go sober," Peeta suggests seriously.

"Nah," says Haymitch. "Should probably go home and get a drink-"

"Sit," I command.

Haymitch throws up his hands. "If you insist." He drops down into the chair next to my bed. "We're gonna have tons of fun, Little Guy. Mom's going to teach you how to shoot, Dad's going to teach you how to bake."

Haymitch's voice is drowned out by mother's squealing.

"Where's the baby?"

"Hello to you, too," I say.

"Hey honey," My mom says, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "Let me see the baby!" Once she's holding her, she looks at me expectantly and says, "What's her name?"

"Err…" I haven't even thought of a name. I haven't even thought about thinking about a name. But, as usual, Peeta has me covered.

"I was thinking Kambrea," he says.

"It's beautiful, Peeta!" my mom exclaims. "I love it!"

"She needs a middle name," Haymitch says.

"Primrose," my mother, Peeta, and I say at the same time.

"Kambrea Primrose it is, then."

Posy bounds into the room, sixteen and georgeous, like all of the Hawthorne children at that age. Gale comes in after her.

"I like it," says Posy.

"Hi Posy, Gale," I greet.

"Long time no see," says Gale, squeezing Peeta on the shoulder.

"Has it been?"

"Three years." Gale leans over the baby his sister is now holding. "She has your hair. And Peeta's eyes."

"Definitely Peeta's eyes," I murmur.

Gale shifts back uncomfortably on his heels.

"We should get going," he says finally. "Come on, Pose. See you sometime? Soon?"

I shrug.

"We just got here," Posy complains, but reluctantly squeezes my hand and pats my mother on the shoulder, who has tears streaming down her face, then follows Gale out of the room.

Finally my mother, unable to contain herself anymore, collapses to the floor, her body shaking with sobs.

"Easy now," says Haymitch, trying to comfort my mother. Peeta has to go over also.

My body aches to join them, but I can't find the strength to get out of bed.

My mother keeps sobbing and finally a nurse comes in and has my mother taking out of the room.

"What was wrong?" I ask, on the verge of tears from seeing my mother in that state.

"She kept saying something like, 'I miss them,'" Peeta says.

My dad and sister.

I look over at our sleeping baby, who has been placed on the cot next to my bed. Her innocent life is in the hands of people who have killed with their own. I realize, how can Peeta and I tell her about the Games? Or the rebellion? Why she has no aunts, uncles, cousins, and almost no grandparents? How can we possibly explain to her why cameras will follow us? I'm surprised none have found us today. How can we explain to her that Peeta and I were the center of the biggest thing in a very long time? How we changed the world she will live in forever.

"I miss them, too."

"You're gonna have a crazy life, Little Guy," Haymitch says, leaning over the baby and stroking her hair.

I agree whole-heartedly.

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**Alright, right? Tell me what you think! Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok! I've replaced some of the content of this chapter and made the flashbacks easier to identify. Enjoy and review!

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*Katniss' POV*

The next day, my mother is allowed to come back in.

"What happened last night?" I ask, concerned.

She smiles wearily. "I'm not sure," she admits, her eyes red and blood shot from crying all night long. "You and Peeta… you remind me so much of us when we were young." Her tears are streaming again. "They were both too young to go." She starts sobbing again. I pat her back, feeling my own eyes growing moist, but stop myself. My heart aches. I miss them so much it's nearly unbearable. I'm desperate to see their faces again, their smiles, but they are lost to me forever. I'll never see them again.

I hear my baby crying and can hardly pull myself out of my desperate greif to care for her.

"It's okay," Haymitch assures me, scooping my baby up. I'm surprised at how helpful he is being. If I had know this, I would have had a baby years ago!

I doze off.

_I'm on the road from Victor's Village._

"_I'll see you tomorrow," Peeta frowns._

_I grab his arm and he tries to pry my fingers off ever so gently._ _He was trying to leave._ _This must be what it felt like when he knew he loved me, but I didn't love him back._

_He's so sweet, so sensitive._ _He's so graceful, beautiful, enviable. I want to be like Peeta, and I want to love like he does. I want it to be the day we planted primroses in front of his house, the time I broke my ankle and I'd spent hours watching his hand sketch those delicate plants in our book. I want to be able to watch his eyelashes all day, golden in the sunlight. I want to watch him paint and bake and just be happy. I want the old Peeta back. I want _my_ Peeta back. _

"_Katniss—" he start, his hand on mine. _

"_Peeta," I plead, ediging on tears. "I love you. Don't you love me too?"_"

_It thunders loudly. "I don't know."_

_A tear trickles down my cheek. That's when it starts pouring rain._

_I giggle and put my arms around his neck. He doesn't try to stop me. His face breaks into a grin. It's his real one, the one that crinkles his eyes so much you can only just see them. He starts laughing too, his real, kind, gentle laugh that melts my very soul. I throw my head back, feeling the rain pelt my face._

_I don't know how long we stand there. Maybe a minute, maybe a day, maybe a life time. Battered by the rain; laughing uncontrollably in each others arms._

_I slowly inch up on my toes and kiss him. It's been nearly two minutes before I realize I'm not breathing. It's that wonderful._

_It's still raining when we reach the Meadow, hand in hand. It's almost dark, but we don't care. We also don't mind we're drenched.. At least Peeta doesn't mind._

_Peeta runs his fingers through my wet hair and says, "I like it better straight."_

_My hair, until our recent shower, had been in long, black ringlets. My prep teams idea for this particular date. It now hung straight and limp over my sopping shoulder._

"_My prep team.." I explain. "They thought you'd like it this way."_

_He kisses me. "I like it _any_way._

"Peeta!" I say, frustrated. "You do it."

"Alright," He says, taking the baby and the bottle. "Time to show how the motherly work is done."

I roll my eyes.

"Very funny. When do you think we can get out of here?"

"While all this has been very touching," says Haymitch, "I need liquor. Now."

"Ours is locked up," says Peeta smugly.

"Peeta, I'm begging you, where is it?"

Peeta gives him a disgusted look before saying, "In the cabinet. Here's the key." He shifts the baby to one arm and digs in his pocket, then drops the key into Haymitch's hand. Haymitch is out the door in a second.

Our doctor, Dr. Menelaus, pops in.

"What concerns we is her size and the fact that it's winter," She says. Dr. M is slim and blonde. She's hardly twenty-five, but she knows her stuff.

"Why do you think she's so small?" Peeta asks nervously.

"I'm not really sure," she admits. "Some babies are born small. She's only four pounds seven ounces."

"Is that bad?" I ask, getting concerned and hoping this wouldn't become an extended visit.

"Not generally," the young doctor purses her lips. "I didn't think we would have to do this, but we've been monitoring her body temperature and it hasn't been too stable. We'll have to put her in the ICU."

"ICU?" Okay, so I'm not so good with hospital terms.

"Intensive Care Unit," Peeta explains softly. He touches my arm lightly. "It'll be best for her."

I just stare.

"What did I do wrong?" I ask, dropping into a chair and wringing my red skirt.

I realize there are cameras trained on me. When did they get there? I pretend I don't notice.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Dr. M assures me.

My foot taps hyper actively. "Does she have a disease?"

Dr. M shakes her head. "No, she's healthy, just cold. She'll have to be in for a week, minimum."

"A whole week?" I check.

"Yes. I hadn't realized how bad it was until last night."

"See? Peeta says. "Everything is going to be fine."

But it's not.

The camera crew follows us into this horrid room with one glass wall so we can see from a mother finds us, me pressed against the glass, tears rolling down my face, Peeta's arm around my waist. "What-?" she starts. Peeta gestures with his head. She comes up next to us and we all watch wordlessly."Body tempurature?" my mom guesses.

"H-how did you know?"

"The same thing happened when you were born," she explains. "I remember them putting you in the ICU like yesterday. And I remember pressing myself against the glass and crying. And your father's arm around my waist.."

Peeta's arm tightens around my waist.

My mother sighs and continues, "And she seemed cold when I held her." I feel completely idiotic for not noticing something like that.

We stand there for a long time, Peeta stroking my hair, my mom rubbing my back.

"Peeta?" Haymitch calls down the hall. "That wasn't the right key!"

Peeta's mouth quirks into an almost smile.

"Hey, what's my Little Guy doing in there?"

His question only meets silence.

***Peeta's POV***

"ICU?" Katniss asks, not understanding.

"Intensive Care Unit," I explain and touch her arm. "It'll be best for her."

I've been worried about our baby being so small, but I didn't want to alarm Katniss.

Katniss presses herself against the glass, tears streaming down her face, my arm around her now slim waist.

Her mother comes and stands next to us. We watch silently.

"Body temperature?" she asks finally.

"How did you know?"

"The exact same thing happened to you. I remember them putting you in the ICU like yesterday. And I remember pressing myself up against the glass and crying. And your father's arm around my waist. And she seemed cold when I held her."

"Peeta!" Haymitch demands. "That wasn't the right key!" I almost smile. I'd given him the wrong key on purpose. "Hey, what's my Little Guy doing in there?" No one answers.

Katniss and I wander around the hospital all day long, not releasing hand for more that a few minutes.

It reminds me of a time. A long time ago…

"_Peeta, I love you. Don't you love me too?" _

_We're on the road from town to Victor's Village._

"_I'm not sure," I admit._

_It thunders and a tear trickles down her cheek, like the imminent rain. Then it starts pouring. _

_Katniss giggles that toxic, contagious giggle, and I have to laugh too. She puts her arms around my neck. _

_We stand there for an immeasurable amount of time, and she kisses me. _

_A new passion explodes inside of me. I love Katniss Everdeen. And she loves me back._

**Tell me what you think! It's not very different from the first chapter 5, but it's definetly easier to understand.  
And don't forget the three R's: reveiw, review, and review! Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, so this was my FAVORITE of all of the chapters, and I was reading over it and noticec a lot of grammar errors. Petty, I know, but I really had to fix these, and I added a bit of new stuff into the mix. I think it's a little more funny. New chapter in the works, so just be patient!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, or any of the characters.**

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_Katniss and I spend a lot of time together over the next few weeks. We start to take turns making meals for Haymitch and cleaning his house since Hazelle and Posy are gone visiting Gale._

_I know what I want to do, what has meant to have been done since the day we met, and as__ much as I hate to, I figure I should talk to Haymitch before I do anything._

_Haymitch is at his table, chugging liquor in front of the kitchen television that I brought in for him. It's a mess in the kitchen as usual, and I wish Hazelle was back._

"_Haymitch?" I ask carefully. _

"_Peeta!" Haymitch says, a little too loudly. "My favorite Victor. What's up?"_

_I look down at my hands and mumble, "I was thinking of proposing to Katniss."_

"_I was hoping for today!" He says, just a little too enthusiastically. "C'mere."_

_He leads me back into a room I've never been in before. His study. And it's _clean_. I'm suddenly thinking he's never been in here either._

"_Where did I put that?" He says absently, and in a few minutes, he's torn every book from the shelf and every paper is on the floor. So much for this place being clean._

"_What are you looking for?" I ask before he can make even more of a mess for me or Katniss to clean up._

"_Oh, a box," I wait for him to elaborate some more, but all he says is, "a black box."_

_I scan the room and I find it within seconds. "The small one on top of that shelf?" I ask, pointing._

_He slams the heel of his hand into his forehead and climbs up the shelf, making it teeter dangerously._

_He jumps down with surprising agility for an alcohol befuddled man._

"_Peeta," He says, his voice serious and servere. "This is worth my life and means more, just like you and Katniss. I want you to have it." He presses the box into my hand._

_When I open it, my eyes grow wide. Inside is the most dazzling ring I've ever laid eyes on. "Haymitch!"_

"_It was my mother's," he explains. "My father was a merchant. He was killed by means I don't ever want to discuss, so don't ask. My mother gave it to me before my Games, hoping that, if I survived, I would marry my girl. The Capitol made examples out of my mother, my little brother, and my girlfriend, killing them for my own stupidity. I never saw them alive again…" he trails off, looking like he's reliving it all again. "It means everything, and I want you to have it. You two kids are the only family I had for twenty-five years. Take it." He closes my hand around the box and pushes it toward me._

_I blink, so many question forming in my brain. "Thank you." I clap him on the back, stifling the stream of words threatening to escape my mouth._

_I am suddenly very hesitant to seen Katniss._

Tomorrow, _I tell myself._

"_Well come on!" Haymitch urges. "I want to see this!" _

"_Well," I say, "I was thinking about doing it tomorrow."_

"_No," he insists. "Today."_

"_Don't rush me!" I say._

"_Tomorrow morning at breakfast."_

_I roll my eyes. I figure I should make Haymitch dinner before I leave, so I make a loaf of bread and throw some potatoes and water into a pot and set to work on those cheese buns that Katniss likes._

_I hear the front door opens._

"_Sae?" I call. Sae sometimes comes and checks on the three of us, just to make sure we're alive and eating like we should._

"_No," Katniss appears in the kitchen doorway trying to strip her raincoat off while keeping hold of the packages in her arms._

_I walk over to help her._

"_What are you doing here, Peeta?" She inquires after I have finished putting away the groceries. "It's my turn to make dinner."_

_I close the refrigerator door with a click. "No, it's your turn to clean up. Which reminds me, Haymitch made a rather large mess in the study."_

_Ignoring this, she takes a whiff of the air._

"_What are you making?"_

"_Cheese buns; your favorite."_

"_Mmm," she says, reaching up and kissing me. I pull away when I realize Haymitch is in the doorway. My hand unconsciously jumps to the ring box in my pocket._

"_Haymitch," Katniss says. "Whose turn is it to make dinner?"_

"_Both of you," he says simply._

"_It's never both of our turns," I mutter, but Katniss grabs my hand._

"_We'll do it together," She says, her grey eyes looking up into mine._

"_It's okay," I say, "I already started on dinner, you just finish up and I'll start on the study._

_I'm stacking papers when Haymitch comes in._

"_You told her," I hiss._

"_No. Why didn't you do it then? It was so perfect!"_

"_I'll do it when the time is right," I snap._

"_Let me tell you something, my boy."_

_I snort back a laugh. _

"_Seriously," He continues with an indignant look on his face. "You never know."_

"_Wow," I say sarcastically. "How long was that pearl of wisdom making its way to the surface?"_

"_Are going to let me finish or not?"_

"_Go ahead."_

"_The right time could never come. The next time you walk into that room, she could be dead."  
"Yeah, right."_

"_She could accidentally stab herself with a knife!"_

_That would seem very Katniss-like, but still, highly unlikely._

"_Go on."_

"_Someone could have slipped in and slit her throat, or—"_

_"Can you get to the point?"_

"_The point is, it's better now than later, believe me."_

"_Better late than never," I counter, but I do consider his words. I know he speaks from experience._

_I finish cleaning up and head for the front door, pulling my coat off the hook on the way._

"_Peeta!" Katniss comes into the living room, hold a steaming shepherd's pie. "You're not staying for dinner?" She looks disappointed._

_I shake my head, pulling on my coat. I can't stand being here much longer. _

"_I want to… finish a painting that I started this afternoon," I fib. "The background should be finished drying by now."_

_She smiles. "I want to see it," she says. "I'll bring some food over in a few minutes."_

"_Great," I mumble._

_When I get to my house, I dash down the stairs to my basement, where I have my painting things set up. I, in fact have not been working on a background, I so have to dig through some of my abandoned canvases._

_I find one that isn't so bad; I'm not sure why it hasn't been finished._

_Once I start, it all happens almost by itself. It's like the brush wants to make a picture and it just needs my hand to hold it; my memories flow out of it, and I don't even have to stop and think about what color I need. It just happens._

_I have soon created a likeness of my father's bakery in the old 12. It's been incorporated into the new 12, and it looks like my own dream bakery._

_The front door bangs open and Katniss's voice floats down the stairs. _

"_Peeta?"_

"_Down here."_

_She stop and closes her eyes and breathes in the new paint smell. "It's beautiful," she says finally._

"_I want something like it," I admit._

"_You can do it, Peeta," she says. "You can do anything." She looks like she's expecting a kiss or embrace._

_When I don't reply, she sighs._

"_I should get home," She says. "'Night."_

_She walks up the stairs, then turns back, "Your dinner's on the table."_

"_Thanks," I mumble._

_Then she leaves, with me feeling like something is going to explode out of my stomach._

_I go up stairs and change into more comfortable clothing, leaving what I had previously been wearing in a heap. I kneel by the book case, scanning the shelves for a family book that Katniss and I haven't worked on in months..._

_I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Haymitch is shaking me._

"_Peeta!" he snaps. "You slept through breakfast on purpose!"_

"_Haymitch, calm down," Katniss says over his shoulder. "Why would he sleep through breakfast on purpose?"_

"_Don't worry about it, honey," he tells her sweetly._

_I groan and pull myself upright, and glance at the clock on the night stand. It says 10:13._

"_Why were you on the floor?" Katniss asks._

"_Rough night, Dough boy?" Haymitch snarls. "Thinking about how to avoid what you were supposed to do in the morning?"_

"_What are you talking about?" Katniss looks utterly confused._

"_Never mind," I say. I glance at the pile of clothes that I wore yesterday. "Hey, did you have breakfast already?"_

_Her eye twinkles. "Yes, but I'm not going to say no to yours. You are offering to make cook, right?"_

_I smile. "I am now."_

_Haymitch gives me an approving look, like I was planning to do this all along. Which I haven't. That's me, make-it-up-as-you-go man._

_Katniss and Haymitch sit down at my table and watch me pull things out of the cabinet and refridgerator: Eggs, milk, butter, bread, orange juice. And they just sit there._

"_You _did _tell her!" I hiss at Haymitch, who shakes his head vigorously._

"_Peeta," Katniss says. "The toast is burning."_

_The toast that I just put in is burned black, and smoke is rising from the toaster._

_I curse under my breath and open a window, then start trying to clear the smoke by batting at it witch a kitchen towel._

"_Omelet, omelet!" Haymitch says, grinning widely as the omelet on the stove starts smoking as well._

_I obviously can't handle making breakfast by myself anymore, because my kitchen is soon filled with smoke and two people are literally on the floor, coughing and rolling around laughing._

_Sae makes an appearance when she sees smoke coming out of my kitchen window. She helps me clear it out; we have to step over Haymitch and Katniss._

"_I'm going to change." I mutter, and stalk up stairs._

I should seriously get this over with,_ I think to myself, taking the ring box out of the pants I wore yesterday._

_When I come back into the kitchen, Katniss is at the stove. I sit down at the table._

"_What's on your mind, Peeta? She asks, sliding the omelet out of the pan and onto my plate._

"_What do you mean?" I ask guardedly._

_She sets down the pan._ "_You never would have done that if you weren't distracted. What's on your mind?"_

"_Well," I hesitate. "This. Katniss Everdeen," I get down on one knee and pull out the ring. "I promise to love you forever…" a whole, long, loving speech pours out of who knows where and ends with, "Will you marry me?"_

_By now she's sobbing. She nods and hold out her left hand, speechless._

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**I love flashbacks, don't you? I had tons of fun writing this chapter for you guys, so tell me if you like it! Review, review, review!**


	7. Chapter 7

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**Hey ya'll! Sorry about the wait for an update, I had zero ideas until like three o'clock this morning.  
Hope you guys like it! :D Happy MLK day!**

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*Peeta's POV*

_Katniss tackles me in hug._

"_I love you," I whisper, which makes her sob harder._

_Haymitch pats her shoulder and she pull him in too._

"_Haymitch! I'm getting married!" she says in a muffled voice._

"_I know, sweetheart," he says. "It's great."_

_The phone rings. Haymitch pulls himself out of our gushy love scene to answer it._

"_It's your mom, Katniss." Perfect timing._

"_Mom?" Her voice is shaking with excitement. "Guess what?"_

_Before her mother can even guess, she blurts, "I'm getting married!" They squeal for about an hour about wedding plans. _

_Of course, the press finds out about our engagement within the next day or two, and we have to grant an official exclusive interview._

_I squeeze Katniss' hand. We're in my study, and as unused as it is, the interviewers thought it would be an appropriate place._

_Caesar Flickerman lopes into the room, clad in all green, a rather large camera crew behind him._

"_Peeta!" he greets, sounding as if he's surprised to see me. He did just walk into _my _house. "Katniss!" _

"_Caesar," we both say at the same time._

"_Cameras, action." He says, making himself comfortable on at the desk across from our two chairs._

"_Now Katniss," He says, and the interview has started. "Last time I saw you, you were in a wedding dress for another interview of ours. You had already chosen a dress for your originally planned wedding, until it was tragically interrupted by the Quarter Quell. Will you stick with the dress that you had picked out a few years ago?" _

_She mulls this over for a few seconds. It actually was the Capitol who had voted for the dress that they liked best, as I remembered it._

"_Well, you never know, my taste could have changed over those years," she says. "In any case, I'm having Pomelia, my stylist for the wedding, design a new one for me, so it will be just perfect."_

_The following hour is a recap of our lives from age sixteen, the year of our first Games, to now._

_I'm about to fall asleep when I realize the question that Caesar has just ask was directed at me: Why wait so long for another wedding date? Why didn't we just do right after everything was over?_

"_I think we just needed some time to recover from the Rebellion, and you know, just fall in love some more," I say smoothly._

"_Amazing," murmurs Caesar. "Well, Peeta, last time I saw you, you weren't looking so good and you condemning the Rebellion. How do you feel about that now?"_

_I frown. "What's done is done."_

_Caesar quickly recovers from my blow off and we are soon having a casual conversation about how I am going to recruit my uncle, who is also a baker living in District 5, to make our wedding cake._

"_We have had a wonderful time with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, soon to be married," says Caesar. "Save me some cake, Peeta," he finishes with a smile, and then it's over and the camera crew is packed up and out in five minutes, leaving me hoping that they won't air the interview until I can contact my uncle._

"Alright, Peeta," give me the key," Haymitch is struggling to keep up with me and Katniss' pace.

"Just give it to him, Peeta," Katniss says, sounding resigned.

"Fine," I fling the real key at him, and, just like last time, he's stumbling toward the nearest exit in a flash.

***Katniss' POV***

"So, we're going to hole up here all week?" Peeta asks, leaning against the window.

I shrug, not taking my eyes off my sleeping child.

"I need to check in at the bakery," he says softly.

"Don't go," I plead. "Just stay here a little longer, the bakery can wait for a few more days."

"It's not that far, I'll be back in a few minutes."

I sigh, not wanting him to leave. He does anyway.

I lean against the window where Peeta was a little while ago, and memories flood my head.

"_Katniss, stop fidgeting," says Pomelia, my stylist. She's putting the last finishing touches on my look._

"_What if he doesn't like it?" I panic. "What if he thinks I look too made up?"_

"_He's going to like it just fine," she assures me._

_My dress is long and white, and that's pretty much all I can say about it. All of the wedding dress Pomelia had designed for me looked the same: Long and white. My mother, on the other hand, didn't have the same opinion as me. _

"_Oh," she had said, "I like this one. Is that velvet?"_

"_Yes," said Pomelia, indicating the bodice of the dress I was modeling, apparently made of velvet. _

"_Which one do you like, honey?" My mother had pressed. "It is your wedding."_

"_Umm, this one?" I wasn't sure at all._

"_Me, too!"_

_I know Peeta will love however I look but I want everything to be perfect. I now wish I had spent more time picking a dress._

"_I remember when I got married," Pomelia muses._

"_You're married?" I'm not surprised. Pomelia is a twenty year old fashion prodigy, designing at the Capitol since she was thirteen. She's extremely gorgeous. _

_She blushes. "I've been married for two years."_

_Two years? She must've gotten married at eighteen! That's not much better than me, getting married at twenty._

"_I hope this ends well," she muses. What does she mean? "Last time someone designed a wedding dress for you, he didn't get to design any others."_

_Cinna. My stylist for the Games had designed my Quarter Quell interview dress, and it hadn't gotten on so well. The dress had turned into a Mockingjay, with beautiful feathers. When I was about to be deployed into the Arena, he had been taken into custody. After that, he had been interrogated and presumably killed during it._

"_Don't worry," I say, wincing at the painful memory. Cinna had been one of my best friends. "This one's really."_

_She grins widely, and music begins to play. _

"_That's your queue," she says, and heart starts pumping and the blood runs out of my face, though it will probably go unnoticed because of the thick layer of make up. There was no one to walk me down the aisle. My mother had offered, but I had declined, saying that I would rather go it alone. I was beginning to have second thoughts._

_Pretty soon I would be sweating off my new face. Then I see him, standing there, beaming at me and not look nervous at all._

_I blink and it's all over._

And here I am.

I'd never really thought much about my life until it was right before my eyes..

"Katniss!"

"Hmm?" Dr. M is shaking my shoulder. It's a week later and finally time to leave this wrenched place.

"I can't give you instructions if you keep falling asleep in the middle of them!" she snaps. I've never seen Dr. M angry, but it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Sorry," I murmur, tiredly. I hadn't gotten much sleep on a window sill all week. "Maybe I could get the written version?"

The doctor gives me an exasperated look and Peeta nudges my foot. We both have dark circles under our eyes, and come to think of it, so does Dr. M. Late nights spent sitting and watching have nearly done us all in.

I lean on my elbow and brace myself.

Peeta nudges me again.

"You heard all that?"

"All what?"

"All of the instructions?"

"There were more?" I had done a better job of concealing my snoozing for Dr. Menelaus this time.

"A whole hoard of 'em."

"You remember them all, right?"

"Yes, but I made this, just in case," he smiles and hold out the written version that I had requested.

"You're the best, Peeta," I kiss him lightly.

"Dr. M is getting the baby, and Haymitch is on his way over with the car," he says.

"Isn't driving while intoxicated illegal?" I ask.

"Well, yeah."

We both sigh when Dr. M carries in the baby, very warmly wrapped in a soft lavender colored blanket.

"Home!" I declare, as Peeta takes the baby.

"Home," he agrees.

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**:D I hope you guys liked it! If you read what I took such a long, long, long time to write (not _that_ long), please review, even if you didn't like it. I want your honest opinions and if you _did_ like it, I like reading your reviews as much as you like reading what I wrote!  
So if you read, please, please, _please _review!**

**_Thanks :)_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay! Chapter 8! Been working on this one forever! Hope you guys like this one!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. And I've been forgetting to put disclaimers in.. Oops.**

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*Peeta's POV*

"Haymitch!" Katniss calls. "You have to watch the baby today. I'm going in to the bakery today."

"It's about time," I say, flipping her ponytail in my hand. She'd abandoned her braid a little while before the baby had been born.

It was six o'clock in the morning, but we were all up anyway. Since Katniss hadn't been able to take her shift for almost four months, I had been going in early to help our apprentice and manger.

Haymitch appears in the doorway, in his pajamas, holding a cup of coffee.

"For the whole day?" He groans.

"You can surely handle one little baby for a few hours," Katniss smiles.

"I'm not a multi-tasker." He grumbles, spilling his coffee while trying to pick up the baby.

"Careful, Haymitch!" Katniss cries, jerking the baby away. She squeals.

"Told you I'm not a multi-tasker," He closes his eyes and puts his face on the table. "Peeta, I need more coffee. Black, really black coffee."

I make another cup of coffee and slam it on the table.

Haymitch takes a sip and immediately spews it all over the kitchen. He didn't say to put sugar in it.

"Haymitch!" Katniss snaps.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to leave him-" I'm interrupted by the door slamming open.

"Happy Birthday, Katniss!" Her mom comes into the kitchen and picks up the baby and spins her around. She laughs.

"Mom," Katniss grins so wide you can hardly see her eyes.

"Darla, I need coffee," Haymitch groans.

"Not much of a greeting," Katniss points out.

"Coffee," Darla lists. "You two need anything else? I'm off all week." Katniss' mom had liked the new 12 hospital so much she had decided to get a job there.

"Babysitter?" I suggest.

"Babysitter." Never mind that it's six o'clock in the morning.

"Thanks, mom. Oh, Gale's coming over later with his kids. For my birthday."

"Gale," Haymitch says. "Who's Gale?"

"My old friend Gale? The one that we saw three months ago? He looks a lot like me. That Gale."

"Oh, that Gale," says Haymitch, as if that pretty much summed up Gale in a few short sentences. "Used to see him around town when he was kid." Katniss rolls her eyes hugely. "Tallish, real good looking, always had a girl on his arm."

"Definitely Gale," Katniss mutters.

We walk to the bakery slowly. I have tons of people working for me now, but I still have to pop in a lot to check on things and do special project, like the one I was working now. A birthday cake for Katniss.

I had everything planned exactly right.

"Katniss!" Our apprentice, a young woman named Helia, exclaimed. She loved to talk. "I made the most _amazing _cake last week!" She rattles on and on, Katniss continuing to put cakes in and take them out of the ovens, one of the only things she can do. She just smiled and nodded to make it look like she was listening.

I smile and slip into the back room.

Katniss' cake is going to be simple, but beautiful, like her. Plain white with beautiful flowers, three tiers. My gift to her.

"Flint," I say, feeling that the cake needs a special touch, "Rim the edges with gold icing."

"On it, Peeta!"

"Peeta?" It's Katniss. I slip out of the back room and shut the door behind me.

"I burned one of the cakes. What are you doing?" She asks, raising and eyebrow and trying to look behind me.

I block her way. "Nothing," I say with a smug grin. "Don't worry about the cake, I'll make another one."

"Shouldn't I do it?" She asks. "I was the one who burned it."

The ingredients and mixer are in the back room.

"No. It's your birthday; I'll do it."

She frowns. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Work the registers," I say quickly. "I need to check on something."

I slide back into the back room and clap my hands for order.

"Everyone!" I shout over the din of people making and decorating cakes. "By all means, keep Katniss out of this room! Do what ever you need to, but she cannot come in this room."

Everyone nods, and Flint gives me a playful salute.

It turns out, I don't need any help. A few hours later, I'm taking a special cake order when Katniss turns away from the register.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Getting something from the back room."

"Let me get it for you," I say. "It's-"

"I don't mind, Peeta, I can get it myself." She frowns and tries to push past me.

"I'll get it for you!" I insist, stepping into the back room. I come out quickly.

Katniss has a sly smile on her face.

"What was it that you needed?" I asked sheepishly.

She rolls her eyes. "I'll get it."

"Hold on one minute." The second I'm in the kitchen, I call Flint.

"Flint, hide everything. The whole cake. Katniss is about to come in. Don't take it out until you know she's gone for sure."

"You got it, Peeta."

I step out again. "You can go in now," I smile.

She looks annoyed, but doesn't say anything.

I go back to the cake order.

"Isn't it time to go home?" Katniss whines at about five o'clock.

"Huh? I don't usually go until six."

"I don't remember my shift being so long," she says, giving me her puppy dog face. I prepare to be persuaded. "And it's my birthday."

I glance at the back room. Flint may not be done with the cake, and there's no way I can get the cake out without her noticing if she's here.

"I need to finish something. You go; I'll be right behind you."

She raises her eyebrow. "Gale's going to be here at six. Don't be late."

"Swear I won't."

She kisses me and pulls off her apron.

"Cake's almost done, Peeta," says Flint when I come in.

"Thanks, Flint, it looks amazing! I'll take it from here."

I pipe 'Happy Birthday, Katniss' on it and put it in a box.

"Peeta, someone wants to see the boss!" calls Helia.

_Great,_ I think._ This could take a while._

As I predicted, it did. The lady was very pompous. She wasn't satisfied with her cake because one of the dots on an _i_ was smeared. I found this a bit unreasonable, but, being short on time, I offered to replace the whole cake for her. She insisted on my making the cake _in front of her_ and frosting the whole thing. And she wouldn't have it any other way. I tried to explain that I needed to get home for my wife's birthday, and I could have someone else do it, but she insisted upon my doing it.

I'm a pro at making cakes, but waiting for it to cool so you can frost it is the problem. Still, it didn't take to long. Or so thought. When I finally finish, I glance at my watch. Six o'five!

"Coan!" I call to my assistant manager. "Close up shop for me!"

He nods.

On my way out, I trip.

"Oh, no!" I groan. The cake has landed face down. Since it's in the box, it's salvageable, but I'll still have to fix it.

By the time I strip off the whole top layer of frosting and redo it, it's almost seven.

I don't have my car, so it takes me even longer to get home.

Victors' Village isn't far from town; In fact, the houses there are the closest dwellings to the Square.

Finally, my humongous house comes into view. For a wedding present, President Weston, the Paylor, combined me and Katniss' houses. Don't ask me how she achieved the feat, but when we go home from our honeymoon, she had done it.

As I approach the house, I hear children squealing. It's such an uncommon sound it the Distric nowadays, a smile tugs at my lips.

I open the door, balancing the cake box in my hand.

Katniss is glaring at me, the baby in her arms.

"You're late," she says curtly.

"I'm sorry-" I start, but I'm interrupted.

"Peeta!" It's Annie Cresta.

"Annie." I haven't seen her in years. "Is this Finnick?" Hiding around the corner is a very handsome young boy. He must be almost eight by now. "He looks just like his dad."

"That's just what I said," says Gale, balancing both of the twins in his arms, wife by his shoulder.

"Hey, Gale. You must be Dianne." I extend my box-free hand.

"Yeah, this is little Finnick," says Annie chattily. "Dianne told me that her and Gale where coming to visit and I just though, you know I haven't seen Katniss and Peeta in a while, so here I am!"

In the corner, Katniss is talking to her mom, who is balancing one of Gale's kids on her hip.

I go over to her.

She frowns at me.

"What?" She asks harshly.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I was trying to make a cake for you so I didn't want you to go in the back room. And when the cake was finished, I couldn't take it home when you were there, so I told you to go home but then there was a problem and I had to make another cake and then when I was leaving, I dropped _this_ cake, and I had to redo the whole thing and-" I realize that everyone's looking at me.

Katniss is smiling.

"Aww," says Annie.

"Happy birthday," I say, setting the cake on the table.

She throws her arms around me.

"I love you," she whispers.

"Love you, too."

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**Did you guys like it? If you like, please, please, please review!  
Spelling Errors, ect., let me know about them too.**


	9. Chapter 9 Real New Chapter!

**Ok! So after a long, grueling wait, I'm back! Ya'll knew I wouldn't leave you hanging for to long. Anyway, this chapter picks up right where the previous one stoppeed, so if it's been a while, I highly suggest you go back and read at least the end of that one so you know what's going on. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. No, I do not.**

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***Peeta's POV***

The baby, who is crushed in out embrace, shrieks, and I pull away, swinging her in my arms.

Annie smiles.

"What did I miss?" Haymitch stumbles into the room, his hair tousled. You can practically smell the alcohol on his breath from ten feet away. He spots the cake on the table, and grins drunkenly. Thank goodness Darla was here to watch the baby. "Cake. You shouldn't have, Peeta."

"Back to bed, Haymitch!" Katniss practically has to push him up the stairs. "Depriving me of cake?" He sounds outraged. "Now this is low, you two."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Yes, very low."

We all go into the formal living room. Dust fills the air, and plumes up when Darla sits on the couch. She coughs. Nobody really ever comes in here, unless they want to watch television.

"Peeta, be careful with the baby!" Katniss scolds, gently taking her from me. I had forgotten I was holding her, she's so light. She's only one and a half months old.

One of Gale's younger kids toddles over to the television and smashes the On button with her tiny finger. It flickers on.

"I'm surprised that thing works," I comment. "We haven't used in—" A collective "Shh!" silences me, and I realize what's on.

A tenth anniversary "revisit" as they called it, of the Games that Katniss, I, and the rest of the remaining Victors did a few months ago in the Capitol. Katniss was still pregnant when we filmed this. We are standing in front of the ruins of the old Justice building. Of course they've built a new one, they've just left the old one in remembrance, horrible remembrance..

But I don't want to hear myself speak about this. If I had had a choice, I wouldn't have shown up at all, but it was mandatory. My mind wanders while everyone else is mesmerized by the television story.

_I wake up in the middle of the night. My chest aches. I take an aspirin, but this does nothing to alleviate my suffering. I know what I need. _

What for? _Part of me reasons. _You'll just end up running to her door. _The other part of me just refuses to give in to myself. My smart half. _

_It's not so much my chest aching as my heart. My tender heart. It will be the death of me. But I can't help my legs from running, running to her, through the night. I want, need to feel her in my arms. It's been too long. I cannot stand blowing each other off when we really feel this way. We haven't spoken in a whole day. It's too much for my heart to take._

Mush, Peeta, _Smart half thinks. _Maybe you should consider being a poet. _Other half just keeps on running._

_I pass Haymitch's house. Lights of different colors flash through the dark. He must be watching television._

_The door to Katniss's house is unlocked, lucky for me. I bang the door open. There's no way she could have slept through that. She's probably standing behind her door, bow in hand, waiting for someone to enter and receive their punishment… If I survive, she isn't going to want to be with me. _

Nice one, _other part says. _You shouldn't have come in the first place, _smart part says, _just leave. _And I almost listen to him. _Go up and tell her it's just you. Everything is alright. _Dumb, sentimental, gushy other part says. I _do _listen to that. _

_This time I ease the door open, and to my surprise she's cringed up on the bed, looking disheveled, her knees pulled up to her chest. _

"_Wh-wh-who's there?" She stutters, sounding feeble and withdrawn. Like she's given up all hope. _

_I slip into the room. "It's just me," I whisper. She doesn't relax. _

"_Wh-what do you want here, Peeta?" She asks, still managing to be icy. "Did you just feel like playing robber and breaking my door down?" She is no longer stuttering._

"_I just wanted to be with you," I mumbled, feeling stupid for not listening to smart part._

_She sighs. "And you couldn't _wait_?" _

_I look down at my feet. "I guess not.."_

_The sound of someone else floats up the stairs. _

"_Now someone really is breaking in!" More like walking in. She jumps out of bed and shrinks back against my chest. I hold her close. This isn't the Katniss I know. She's a brave soul, will stop at nothing to stay alive. This Katniss is just…withdrawn._

"_Sawthedooropen," Haymitch slurs, swaying on the spot. So much for this. _

_I purse my lips. "That was me," I say. Katniss backs away from me. _

"_I'm going to go back to bed and forget this happened," she says._

"_No!" I want to scream. "We were supposed to make up!" but I just peck her on the cheek and say good night. She recoils from the kiss._

"_Come on, Haymitch," I say. _

"_Burglars?" He mumbles. _

"_No, we're home and to bed. You're going to have one heck of a hangover," I add under my breath. _

It must have gone on like this for a year. Her rejecting me, me rejecting her, lots of tears, midnight break-ins, and broken things. It was almost like a game.

"You look so handsome, Peeta," Katniss interrupts my reverie by whispering in my ear.

At this particular moment, I happen to look terrible, but she always sees the bright side.

"You look better, Kat," I whisper back.

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," she teases.

"Ohh," Annie, who is evidently holding the baby now, coos. "She fell asleep! I just love it when they're this small."

"We should probably go," Gale says, stooping down to pick up his children who have fallen asleep on the floor. He thumps my shoulder and pats Katniss on the back. "Happy birthday." Then he leaves.

Darla sighs. "I should go too, I guess," she says.

"Thanks for watching the baby, Mom," I say.

"I'm coming over tomorrow," she informs us, squeezing my shoulder.

"Me too," Annie trills. "Maybe I'll live with you two," she muses, and she's probably serious. It's difficult to imagine fun loving, outgoing being introverted and insane.

Finnick pulls at her dress. "Maybe we'll just stay in 3," she concludes. "See you later, happy family!" That's definitely Annie for you…

Katniss's mom is already out the door, Annie and little Finnick trailing behind her.

I plop down on the couch beside Katniss. "Have a good birthday?"

She gazes into my eyes thoughtfully. "Yes," she says finally, and kisses me for a long time. The television, still blaring, starts playing some music. I pull her to her feet and start swaying. It could have been all night, even when the music has stopped, we're still swaying to an imaginary beat. Our love song.

* * *

**So, this is what I like to call a 'trasition chapter.' Short, I know, but it will tie you over. If you liked, review. If you didn't like, review and tell me how much it sucked.**

**I will also have a lot more time to right, as the school year ends tommorrow in my neck of the woods, so expect lot's more where that came from! Hope you liked it!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, I really hope you like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the characters. And I have been forgetting to put in disclaimers. Again.**

* * *

***Katniss' POV***

_I set my head on the table, trying to block out the memories, but of course failing. It seems like the only thing I cannot overcome: My own mind, the world of reliving. I have somehow, seemingly impossibly surmounted the death of my sister, my mother leaving me, and losing the one thing I could always lean on. The world never has taken pity on me._

_The memories pelt me like the rain pounding on the ground outside. Today is the day that we would normally have our annual Harvest Festival, but there is nothing to harvest and more importantly, nothing to celebrate. _

_I haven't left the house in weeks. Haymitch, who is in charge of taking care of Peeta and me now that my mother's left, has been stocking the refrigerator once a month, but that's all the company I have besides that wretched cat of my sister's. Greasy Sae and her granddaughter used to come over everyday, but I have recently told them to stop. Three is a crowd. _

_It has been an unusually cool autumn, almost as cold as winter here. It must be because of the empty, plant-free plains that stretch over what used to be District 12. The bombings have left this place as bare as the day I returned here, save Victor's Village, which miraculously survived all of this. The only plant for miles is the grass that managed to live, a few trees, and the flowers that Peeta planted in front of our houses a few months ago. We don't do that anymore. I could care less about what Peeta is up to these days, and I'm sure he feels the same about me. _

_I drag myself up to bed, not bothering to take a shower. I haven't in weeks. My hair is a mangled knot, and I haven't looked in the mirror for months. As if it matters what I look like. No one is ever going to see me again, except perhaps Haymitch. I decided that a long time ago._

_The nights here are terrifying. You can hear the mines creaking, imploding, even from here. And then the nightmares begin. _

_They are particularly horrible without him here, and I frequently find myself wishing that I will die in my sleep. There just doesn't seem to be anything worth living for anymore._

_When Haymitch comes over the next morning, I've lost all will to live. He tries to haul me out of bed. He is weak, but I am thin and sickly, and haven't seen sunlight in ages. He only succeeds in getting me to the floor, and I stay there. For days I stay on the floor. I will die here, like the world condemned me to so long ago. I have averted death far too long, and it has finally come to take me. _

_I am unbearably hot, I think I have a fever. Buttercup comes and sits on me, which doesn't help me much. I'll die quicker, I think. _

_After what seems like days, I roll over. Like an acrobat, Buttercup shift to my back, not one paw leaving my rail thin body for a second. I remember the last time this happened, I lost all resolve. I was even angry when I realized they were going to let me live. Now, I do not care what happens to me. Until about a week ago, Dr. Aurelius had me going through the meaningless motions of my other life, the life old Katniss had lived, but it was so meaningless I couldn't bare it. Will he be disappointed I've gone? Or did he already know it was inevitable._

_The back door whooshes open, and my door bangs open. Haymitch looks utterly exasperated. And drunk. _

"_Still on the floor," he notes, stumbling into the room. I am surprised he is coherent. _

_I don't say anything, the smell of liquor making my stomach churn._

"_You know I left you there last week." He shrugs. "Can't survive much longer, I suppose."  
He doesn't care if I die. No one cares. My suspicions are confirmed. If I am already dead to the world, why really be dead? Nobody will miss me. Nobody will miss me. I think it over and over again, the life slowly, painfully ebbing from me. _

_But this is a pain I don't mind. I welcome this pain, the pain of death. The pain I've been waiting weeks for. Yes._

_Haymitch kicks me in the side. "Come on, get up, Girly!" He roars. My fragile ribs are in agony._

_Finally, Haymitch gives up. "If you're so determined to die," he says so indifferently it makes me want to cry, "so be it."_

_As soon as the door closes, I scream. Scream that no one wants me, scream that I am so alone in the world, scream because I am going to die. Then I dissolve into tears. "I'm so alone," I sob, "I am so alone!" _

"_No, you're not." My sobbing has escalated to such a high volume I fail to hear Peeta entering the room._

"_G-go away!" I tell him. "You th-think I w-want you here? Well y-you were wr-wrong!"_

_He shakes his head, getting down on the floor beside me. He looks so repulsively… well. Healthy. Like Peeta._

_He shoos Buttercup off of me and puts the back of his hand on my forehead. I resist the urge to swat it away. "You hungry?" _

_I don't respond. He sighs. "Well, you must be hot. You have an extremely high grade fever." _

_I snort. He's no doctor. I am about to die. _

_He goes over to the window and pulls it open. Then he set me on the window seat and goes downstairs. I contemplate throwing myself to the ground, but the cool breeze from the winter air feels good._

_Had it really been a year since I had come back? _

_Peeta, seemingly reading my mind, comes back into the room holding a glass of water says, "You know it's a year to the day since you killed President Coin."_

_I ignore him, and down the glass of water. "More," I demand. _

_He gives me a strange look and head back down stairs. He returns a few minutes later, this time carrying a tray laden with bread, soup, and a pitcher of water. He nearly trips over Buttercup, which makes me smile for the first time in a year. _

_He pours me glass after glass of water, having to refill the pitcher several times._

"_Eat the soup," he says gently. _

_The soup is not nearly as good as my mother's. I spoon it into my mouth numbly. Peeta is no cook, either._

"_Sorry if it doesn't taste too good," he says, seeming to read my mind again. "I bake."_

_He bakes. Peeta does a lot of that at my house over the next few weeks. I feel better, and meaning slowly creeps back into my actions, though my brain tries to deny it. I eat because I am hungry, not to stay alive. I enjoy Peeta's company because… well, because I love him._

_But he doesn't really feel the same. It seems like he thinks it's an obligation to keep me alive. _

_By some miracle, Haymitch remembers to come over and check on me. It's the first time he's been out of his house in months._

"_Off the floor, I see," he grins stupidly. I roll my eyes._

"_You knew she was on the floor?" Peeta asks. He couldn't be concerned. I am just a liability to him. He really does it to me to keep me living._

"_Well, yeah," Haymitch snorts. _

_Peeta shakes his head in a disgusted manner. _

_We all keep busy. I hunt and trap; Peeta bakes and paints; Haymitch drinks and… drinks. I also stay away from Peeta as much as I can manage. If he doesn't love me, I don't have to love him._

_Let the games begin._

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**:D I really hope you guys liked this one, I had tons of fun writing it.  
I really appriciate it when you guys review, even if you have before, with suggestions, tweaks I could make, opinions, errors, stuff you liked, all that stuff.  
If you like flashbacks, let me know! And if you don't like them, let me know, too! Thanks a bunch :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey Guys! I am sooo happy to get another chapter up. I feel like I've had my second wind! I reread the whole Hunger Games series and countless other fanfics, and I am a gold mind of inspiration, working on the next chapter as we speak! Go me!  
Anyway, I hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, or Peeta, or Katniss, or Haymitch, or Katniss's mom, or Victor's Village, or any of that.**

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*Katniss's POV*

"I swear I didn't do it!" Haymitch insists, though there's a smirk on his face.

"Very believable, Haymitch," I comment, picking up a pair of dirty socks he's left on our kitchen table. Our _table._

"And if you ever, _ever_ leave your sock on the table again…"I trail off, not knowing what to do with him. But Peeta's got himself worked into a knot.

"Yes, you did!" He insists. "How many times have told you _not _to do that! And you just go and do it again!" In his rage, Peeta swings an arm and knocks my mother's favorite lamp from its place.

"Peeta," I sooth, stepping over the remnants of the lamp. It's beyond saving. I wrap my arm around his waist.

"I don't even see what the big deal is," Haymitch says in a bored tone of voice.

"What did you even do?" I ask, not relinquishing my hold on Peeta's rigid back.

"I ways just burning something," Haymitch mumbles in reply, but I can't recall seeing or smelling any smoke.

"In the house, on the stove," Peeta finishes.

I am utterly confused. "You were burning something. In the house. On purpose?" I say.

"He was burning trash in the wood stove!" Peeta says. "If you must burn your trash, burn it outside!"

I suppress a laugh. This surely didn't merit Peeta's rare fit of rage.

"It's a fire hazard," Haymitch mocks in a high falsetto that he probably thinks sounds like Peeta's voice.

I turn from the room, wondering vaguely what brought on Peeta's sudden, irrational fear of fire.

I jolt up from a dream in which Peeta is forced to work in a dangerous spot in the now nonexistent coal mines. I beg him not to go, and he tears me roughly from his shirt, not like the gentle, kind man I am used to. I weep. That night, Peeta does not come home, and I am later awakened by a large explosion. I can see the fiery plume from my window. When I get to the mines, I am told that a careless worker was believed to have had a cigar when there was a tunnel collapse, igniting the coal. No one made it out.

The whole bed shakes because of my trembling, sweaty body. Peeta groans.

"What's wrong?" He asks, wrapping his arms around me.

"I had a nightmare," I wail. "You had to work in the mine, and there was an explosion and you—you-"

"Shh, shh," he soothes, rocking me back and forth in his arms. "That will never happen."

"It was my father all over again!" I sob. I have never said it aloud, but after all these years, that memories, the chain of events that would change my life forever, haunt me like they took place yesterday: the blast that could be heard from the school; The teacher, who's own husband or son was probably in the mines, screaming for us to go; Prim's horrified expression, a look that should never cross a seven-year-old's face; the two of us, tearing through the streets toward the mines were our father worked; My mother, writhing on the ground as if possessed by some demon of sorrow and grief; The realization; my own grief, everything else forgotten; and the two little girls, joining their mother on the ground.

I weep in Peeta's arms for what seems like hours, thinking of how fire can take what you love most just like that. My sister, someone who I rarely think of, yet think of all the time, gone forever, lost to the world in an explosion of flames. She has vanished, never to be seen again by the living, but always in their thoughts, on their minds.

I cry until there I depleted my store of tears, and Peeta has to get me water, and I cry again. He places me on the window seat and I cry for days on end, vaguely thinking of my child, our bakery, my mother, Haymitch, but the sorrow is too great.

The nightmare is so vivid, so real. Each time I drift off, I have variations of it. All the ones I love die, and even some who have already departed this life. My sister. Madge, my only friend. Rue, who I will never forget in a thousand life times.

I want to die with them, whatever the cost. I have been away from them too long, I must see them again.

Finally, Haymitch, whom I haven't seen in days - he can't stand tears-, comes in, my baby in his arms.

"I didn't want to have to do this but—" My choked sob cuts him off as I reach for her, my only light in the world. My child, only six months old. She cries with me, not knowing why, only leading by example. I have to be strong. For her.

When the tears finally staunch, she grabs hold of my finger. I sniff, feeling guilty I haven't seen for three days.

Haymitch coughs and I look up with puffy, blood-shot eyes. "Thought you were going cry yourself out a while ago," he says awkwardly, scooting next to me and gazing out the window. He pushes it open slightly and the autumn wind rushes in, as if it were waiting for a gap to slip in through. The leaves of the tree lining the Village are magnificent shades of orange, yellow, and red. "Guess I was wrong," Haymitch continues, snapping me out of my reverie. He coughs again. "You want to talk about it?"

His offer genuinely shocks me. I give him a wry smile. My baby coos. I tell him about the dreams, and it somehow feels more satisfying, more fulfilling than telling Peeta about them. Where is Peeta anyway? Haymitch relates similar nightmares he's had about the way his mother and younger brother died. I feel closer to him than I have since… Well ever.

We're silent for a while, and I realize Haymitch is the closest thing I have ever had to a father in what seems like forever.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask finally.

"He went out for a while," Haymitch replies. "You know, you're not the only one with problems around here." Personal moment over.

"What wrong with him?" I say.

"He says he can't stand you crying all day long. I don't blame him either," he smiles dryly. "I got fed up with your blubbering pretty quick. I only came over here to watch Little Guy when Peeta left."

I haven't even thought of how this would affect Peeta. He stresses when I get a cut. It must have been killing him to see my like this, which is why he left.

"Finally realizing you're not the only one in the world, huh, Sweetheart?" Haymitch says, seeming somewhat satisfied.

My ears prick up as the door opens. I don't think Haymitch notices it shut softly, either.

"Haymitch?" Peeta pads up the stairs in sock feet. "Are you up here?" Haymitch doesn't answer. The door to the nursery eases open. "Where's the-?" he stops short at the entrance to our room. When he sees the three of us, he sighs contentedly. He looks utterly exhausted. My heart melts. But his eyes aren't on me. They are on our child.

"Hey," I say quietly. He doens't answer me.

"Haymitch," Peeta scolds softly, for the baby had fallen asleep, "I told you not to bring her in here."

"You're welcome for putting an end to the tears and suffering," Haymitch says sarcastically. "Might I remind you I know what I'm doing… most of the time."

Peeta frowns, unconvinced, but doesn't say anything.

We are silent until I can't stand it any longer, can't stand him looking at me like that. "I'm sorry!" I burst out so loudly that the baby jumps, only to sink back into my arms in sleep.

Peeta just looks away and nods, as if to say, _I know you are. But it doesn't matter. _

I try to hold back the tears. Peeta swims in my vision, blurred. I can just discern him turning around and going out the door.

Never in the six years we've been married has Peeta been so mad he refused to speak to me. I'm not even sure he's been mad at me ever. It makes me want to rip my own throat out. I need to feel his arms; I need to hear his voice; it's what I feed on, what I _live_ on. But all I get is silence.

"Ouch," says Haymitch sympathetically.

"Please, please, talk to him!" I beg. "Tell him I'm sorry, tell him I-I'm—" My voice shakes and the tears come. Hot, fast, and angry. Angry at Peeta, that he won't forgive me. But a person can only forgive so many times.

Haymitch steals the baby out from my arms. I can't even stay strong for her.

"Sorry," Haymitch tells me. "But you're on your own."

I watch him trudge out of the room. How could things have gotten so awful?

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**Pretty good, right? I thought so. The running theme in this chapter is fire. And rage.  
I love writing for you guys, and every time I think this story is coming to a close, I just can't do it! I can't abandon you guys :'C **

**Please review if you like it, and tell me what you think. If you've reviewed before, don't hesitate to do it again. It makes me happy :) And I say this because I have this weird thing were I feel like I can only review each story once... But I won't do it if you want do it. **

**Kisses! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey, guys. I was just wonder again if you had any interest in this story, because honestly I think it would be fine ending here. So if you're interest, again, please review. **

**Citruszen: If you're reading this, I missed your review this time! They always encourage me so much!  
DepressedUnicorn: I am very sorry I lied to you about when I was going to get this up :/**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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*Katniss's POV*

I know I must apologize to Peeta. Tell him I understand one can only take so much. He just seems so strong, like he can handle anything. I guess we both have had to put on that façade in the past.

I pull myself off the window seat and stand in the shower for about an hour. I realize that I am subconsciously putting this off. Then I dress slowly and go down stairs. I am starving. I start pulling things from the fridge: milk, eggs, bread, cheese, juice.

"You know it's dinner time, don't you?" I look over and at the table is my mother. She hasn't exactly been living in District 12, though she does work at the hospital here. She goes back and forth to District 4, to the hospital she helped establish there. In fact, she goes there so often, I insisted that we get her a car so she doesn't have to go by train. The real challenge was teaching her to drive it. Peeta and I took countless hours explaining it to her and she seemed to know it all, but when she was behind the wheel it was a different story.

"It _is _dinner time," Haymitch notes. He's just come in, holding the baby, who is wrapped in a pink blanket my mother said her one her friends from the merchant class knitted for me years ago. "Let's have—"

"My mother is not your servant, Haymitch," I sniff. "You do know that, right?"

"Katniss, I really don't mind—"

"Mother, you're over worked, you should rest," I insist.

"Well, you're not making anything. And Peeta certainly isn't, so…"

"Where is Peeta anyway?" My mother asks.

I avert my eyes. Haymitch shifts the sleeping baby from arm to arm.

"He's in town," I say dumbly. "He had to go in to the bakery."

"On Sunday?" My mother inquires. By now she must have figured out something is going on. Peeta and I make it a point never to work on Sundays. But of course I didn't know it was Sunday.

"There was something important he had to take care of," Haymitch maintains for me.

"He'll be here soon?" Mother presses.

"I, err, I guess," Peeta has to come back sometime. He does live here. "But it could take a while."

"A very long while," Haymitch puts in. "Erm, Katniss, Little Guy could use some more blankets. Why don't you get them for me while I put her in bed?"

I get up and my mother looks at us like we're crazy. We probably are for trying to keep something this obvious from her.

I follow Haymitch into the nursery and puts the baby down. Then he says, "Peeta told me he was going to hole up at my place until he could "Collect himself."' He air quotes the last words.

"Great," I sigh.

"Do whatever you have to." He pats me on the shoulder and slumps downstairs, most likely for a drink.

I know Peeta can't last long at Haymitch's. It may be clean, but the place reeks of alcohol, which I know Peeta can't stand.

"Where'd Haymitch go?" I ask my mother when I come back down to the kitchen. She's put everything I had taken out away and replaced it with dinner ingredients. I realize I still haven't had anything to eat.

"He put in his order for dinner and left. If you would go hunting once in a while now maybe I would have something good to work with," she says teasingly.

I frown, ignoring that last jibe. I hadn't been hunting since I was pregnant, and just let Peeta buy meat from the butcher. "Why do you let Haymitch boss you around like this?" I demand.

She sighs, like she knew this was coming. "In a way, I can't really exist without Haymitch."

This comes as a shock to me. The implications she has just made fluster me. "H-how do you mean?"

Upon realizing what I think she meant, my mother rolls her eyes. "For a long time, Haymitch was the only person I could confide in," she says.

"You had me," I grumble.

"Before you. Even before your father. My friend who died in the Games, he was close to her for a little while." _About a day or two, _I think, remembering the time Peeta and I watched Haymitch's games before the Quarter Quell. It was a long while ago, but I remember like it was yesterday. "I didn't take it well when she died," my mother continued. "And her family, who had treated me like family for as long as I remembered, they just locked me out. My parents just told me to get over it. We had a Victor and I should be happy, even if it was a Seam boy. But she was my best friend…" My mother launches into a story of how my father, also a Seam boy she had fallen in love with, had been friends with Haymitch, and how they had talked for hours a week about Mayilee, cried over her, remembered her, how they were friends, having bonded over a common loss, comforting each other. Then Haymitch had locked her out too, after a while,too. He had all the comfort he needed in drink. And all the solitude. How she had tried to go to him after my father had died—I remember her leaving the house once or twice directly after that—but all he had done was blow her off again. How hard feelings between them had never led to real or sincere apologies when they once again had a common connection—Me. "After a while, he broke and made an apology to me," she shrugs. "I guess I feel like I owe him for unloading so much onto him. It was more than he could handle. It was me who drove him to seclusion. It was just too much for him to handle."

I had to agree with my mother, though what Haymitch did to himself was purely himself and the Capitol. A person can only take so much before they have to depend on something, morphling, alcohol, whatever the case may be. They can only take so much before they break. I know that full well.

"Oh, Mother, it's not your fault!" I say softly.

"No? Whose could it be?" My mother looks inconsolable in way. She's sure of this. So I just sigh and move on, though I know Haymitch would've relapsed with or without her.

"So, where is Peeta?" My mother presses.

"I don't know," I mumble. Because actually, I don't know.

My mother frowns. "You don't know," she repeats. "You and Peeta have been virtually inseparable since you made up and you don't know where he is?"

I pick at my finger nails and chew my lip, willing myself not to cry. Because it's unbearable have someone you love so much this angry at you.

"I sort of had a break down," I admit. "For three days."

"Haymitch told me about that," she says, chopping a carrot, probably for a stew.

"Haymitch thinks I'm being insensitive to everybody else by wallowing in grief and not thinking how it will "affect others." Peeta thinks so, too."

"Have you ever fought with Peeta?"

I shake my head. "Not since we were married. Petty disagreements, but nothing—" I swallow—"like this.

"You must really love each other, then," my mother tells me. "If you've never fought before now."

I do love Peeta. I can't stress it enough. I love him more than anything in the world.

"He doesn't think I do," I sniff.

"He doesn't think that," insists my mother vehemently.

"When I fell in love with your father, I doubted in my mind, but never in my heart. I always knew. Just like he always knows he loves you." She's right. Peeta always knew, deep down, he loved me. Even when he didn't know who he was, even when he didn't believe he was in love with me, he still knew.

I, on the other hand, am despicable. I doubted with my heart. I wanted to forget what I felt those few times. Those times when I knew I was in love with Peeta, but I didn't admit it to myself. I knew I loved him from that first kiss in the cave. From the first time my eyes locked on his. But I buried it deep and denied it.

I want to apologize. I also want to hurt myself for hurting my beloved Peeta. Without another word to my mother, I pull my coat off the rack and rush out the door. I take a quick glace behind me to see if the door has shut. And run directly into Peeta.

He looks startled, but I throw my arms around him. He holds me tight. "I'm sorry!" we both blubber at the same time. I pull away. He eyes are red, like he's been crying. I start wailing something unintelligible about how I'm sorry I ever doubted, but I don't think he can understand me.

He strokes my hair and murmurs to me. "It's ok, it's ok."

"But I _was _insensitive!" I cry. "I wasn't thinking about anyone else!"

"It doesn't matter," he croons. "I thought it over. You were just overwhelmed. And you know what?"

"What?" I sniffle.

"I don't care. We've stopped living in the past. It doesn't matter anymore." This is what I want to believe. The past doesn't matter. And right now, it doesn't. Nothing matters but Peeta is in my arms, holding me and loving me.

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**Alrightee. If you've forgotten in the time it took to read this, I am not starting on a new chapter until I get at least _some _interested people reviewing. So, if you are interested, please review. And I thought I should tell you all that this has no plot and I just sort of made it up as I went along. But I'm glad you like it! :)**

**So, I'm hoping to get some more reviews on this. Have a good one!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi, all! Ok, so I don't really know what I was thinking when I made Posy how-ever-old-she-was in that chapter, but disregard that. She's 15 now, and I also messed the last chapter with the age of the baby. Just to make it clear, it's Victory Tour time (winter) and the baby is nine months old. If anyone cared about that..**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Only the characters that I made up, and I'm not really sure if I own them either...**

**Enjoy! And I didn't really go over this, I just glanced (not that I do more than that usually.) I could really use a beta reader (hint hint ;)) Yeah, anyway, enjoy!**

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*Peeta's POV*

"Come on," Katniss calls over her shoulder. "I want to go see Greasy Sae."

"Coming," I pant. She's laden me down with bags and I have to carry Kambrea, which was not helping. If only she would learn to walk for herself. "Maybe I could catch up faster if I wasn't carrying all this stuff."

She glances back at me, as if realizing for the first time all the parcels and things I have.

"Sorry, Peeta," she says, kissing me and taking one of the packages and the baby. "Can't handle it?" She adds a bit tauntingly. It's sort of a game we play, trying to out-do one another.

Not feeling in the mood to play, I grumble, "You try carrying seven packages and a baby." And still carrying six of the seven, minus the baby, I scrambled after her.

We stopped at Greasy Sae's for a while, giving me a chance to catch my breath. She dotes on the baby, giving her sweets and things to play with.

I pick her up and cradle her in my arms as she fiddles with the spoon she has been given. She stares up at me with such intensity; you'd think I was the most interesting thing in the world. Her eyes, my eyes, blue and deep, shine with something I can't place. Katniss always says I don't recognize it because it's me. Then she adds jokingly that I can't recognize myself staring me in the face.

To think this is what we were missing, not having children all these years. I had to fight so hard for this one. And she's perfect.

Katniss sighs in out direction, and the spoon clatters to the floor. I look down again, at the sleeping child in my arms. Without the eyes, she is all Katniss. Dark hair, olive skin, that chin that appears on her, her mother, and did on her sister.

"Ok, Peeta," Katniss tells me. "We should get going."

"See you later, Sae," I call over my shoulder as Katniss and I exit the shop. "Where to next?" I ask Katniss.

"I just want to see Hazelle," she answers.

"Then we're going to Haymitch's house?" Hazelle practically lives there with all the messing-up Haymitch did. Although, he didn't seem to be there lately. He was mostly in town, at the liquor store. I was beginning to think he had some sort of romantic interest in Ripper. It was right around Victory Tour time, not that he had been on many. But now and when the Games used to take place was as good an excuse as any to get extremely drunk.

"Of course not," Katniss says. "We're going to Hazelle's house."

Hazelle had opted to come home to 12 instead of living with her son, Gale, in 2. The new mayor had had several new neighborhoods constructed—no more coal-filled Seam houses. I had been there a few times to visit the very few friends of mine that had survived and returned to District 12. The houses were nice, but living there wasn't really an option for Katniss, Haymitch, and me. We were doomed to live in victor's village as long as we stayed here—not that I was complaining.

"We've never been to visit Hazelle," I muse.

"Which is why we're going now," Katniss tells me. "She'll like to see the baby. It's been fifteen years since she had her own." She means Posy, the last of Hazelle's children. We sometimes have her over to watch the baby while Katniss and I work in the bakery.

The air is biting cold, and snow flurries begin to swirl about us.

"Maybe we should just go home and wait for Hazelle to clean up at Haymitch's," I prod.

"Peeta, you talk too much," she sighs. "We'll be at Hazelle's in no time."

She's right, of course, and we reach Hazelle's house within the next five minutes. It's a good thing, too, because the snow has begun rain down more heavily.

Katniss knocks on the door, and Posy answers.

"Hi, Katniss, Peeta," she says warmly. "Mother's in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Posy," Katniss ducks into the house, and I follow. The house smells like laundry and soap, and is spotless.

"Make sure you take off your boots," Posy warns. "Mother hates it when snow gets tracked in the house."

Katniss and I obligingly slide off our boots, and even though she has no snow on them, Katniss takes of Kambrea's as well.

We pad into the kitchen in sock feet. The kitchen is white. And I mean white. Everything has been bleached to the color of the snow outside.

Hazelle's intense expression melts away when she sees us. She pats Katniss on the cheek and squeezes my hand, and her gaze falls on the baby, whose cheeks are flushed from the cold.

"She makes me want another one," she admits, stroking the baby's straight, dark hair. "You'd better hope the next one looks a bit more like you, Peeta."

Katniss looks down at her feet at the "next one" comment.

"I don't think there is going to be a "next one", Hazelle."

"Hey, why not?" I counter. "Two is better than one." We've already had this argument, though. I want another, while Katniss is perfectly satisfied with only one.

"Oh, she'll come around," Hazelle assures me. But this is Katniss we're talking about. I'm still deciding if Kambrea wasn't a lucky accident.

I looked at Katniss, who I could tell was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Nope, no more children," Katniss states airily. End of conversation.

Hazelle sets down whatever she was scrubbing and exhales noisily.

"Can we lend a hand?" I ask. "There must be something around here you need help with."

"How about this?" Katniss nudges a bag of what seems to be clothing. The contents tumble out. All Haymitch's. She hurries to scoop them back into the bag, looking slightly disgusted. "You really shouldn't have to bring Haymitch's stuff home. He can wash his own clothes."

I snort. "Like he can wash himself?" Not that he ever does. Kambrea stirs in my arms. I set her down on the floor, only to have Katniss scoop her up immediately.

She frowns. "She just woke up, Peeta."

"No, no," Hazelle says to us. "Sit down, I'll make some coffee."

We sit down at the table as Hazelle bustles around the kitchen. After a few minutes, she sets a mugs down in front of me and Katniss. I take a sip. It's scalding hot, the way my mother used to make me and my brothers drink coffee in the morning so we could work morning shifts at the bakery before school. I think of how much I miss them, even my mother, how we used to crack eggs on one another's head when we would fall asleep on the job, or whack each other with heavy bags of flour. I remember the time when my oldest brother, Vanr, hit me so hard the bag that flour covered the whole back room. Mother was livid, of course, but it was something we could've laughed together about. If they were still around.

I am snapped back to reality by the tinkle of a ceramic dish hitting the floor, and a rush of hot liquid drips onto my shirt.

"Kambrea!" Katniss cries. She's been soaked, but somehow managed to keep the baby above the river of coffee.

Hazelle take the baby from Katniss and hands her a rag. "I'll take her to Posy

"This is why I don't want another one," grumbles Katniss.

A smile tugs at my lips. This is just like her.

"Don't smile at me," she snarls. "I'm serious."

"Come on," I tell her, snaking my arms around her waist. "We can handle another. We have each other."

"Just because you can handle something doesn't mean you should do it," she points out.

True enough.

Hazelle comes back in the room. "How old is Kambrea?" She asks.

Katniss frowns and pushes me off of her. "Nine months. Why?"

"She seems a bit young to be walking." Walking.

"Walking?" Katniss repeats in astonishment.

Sure enough, Kambrea is traipsing into Posy's arms.

I am at a loss for words. Could all the hours that I tried to coax her into taking a few steps have paid off?

"I taught her how to walk," Posy says casually, as if she teaches babies to walk everyday.

"H-how did you-?" I stammer.

Kambrea reaches for me and take her in my arms. Her big blues eyes bore into mine, and I don't ask. I'm just grateful.

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**Yes, I know it was short, but it took me like forever to do this one because of 4th of July weekend and my computer acting up. I also have a poll on my profile and I would like your feed-back very much. More where that came from! **

**Keep on reading and reviewing! And thanks to DepressingUnicorn and Citruszen and all the rest of you for keeping me going! Love you guys! 3 **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey everyone. Sorry about the wait for the update, I was on vacation away from my computer. I also started on a new story just because I was bored and I wouldn't mind if you guys took a look at the first chapter :) **

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*Katniss's POV*

"_Come on, Katniss," Peeta begs. "I know you can't really like being out here. And I can't stay out. The sun is killing me."_

_Killing him. Ha. Doesn't he know how I had to force myself to come out here, to see these things? It's killing me, too, and I can only wish my problems were as minor as sunburn._

_The blazing sun beats down on our backs, plastering Peeta's hair to his forehead with perspiration. I've hardly broken a sweat._

_"Go back, then," I tell him, waving my head it the direction of the fence. I shouldn't have taken him out here anyway. He was never one for extreme nature. But now he won't leave._

_I keep walking, Peeta's distinct heavy, stomping foot steps still trailing behind me._

_My eyes sweep over it, and I will myself not to think about it, think about him, what we used to do here, one of the only places I was ever happy._

_Peeta's footsteps cease and I turn around, hoping against hope he hasn't done what I think he's done._

_But there he is, sitting on it, head tipped back, chugging water from a canteen. He doesn't know what this rock, this seemingly ordinary rock means. He doesn't know he's sitting on _our_ rock._

_This rock, the rock that has seen so many laughs, so many heated conversations about the Capitol, so many animals skins, injuries, and so many smiles. I go weak at the knees._

_"Peeta," I say as calmly as I can, "if you're going to stop, please, please do in anywhere but here!" My voice has risen an entire octive by now._

_"Why?" Peeta asks, wiping his face on the back of his hand and raking a hand through his wavy, sweaty hair blonde hair._

_"Please!" I almost shriek. I am not sure why I am bothering. I should take off, flee the pain. But I don't. Because I'm sure that if he weren't here, it would just be too much. So I stay put._

_Peeta hauls himself up off the rock. "Alright." One thing I love about him is that he doesn't question things._

_I set off brisquely through the forest, Peeta stamping out a steady rhythm while trying to keep up with me._

_When we reach the canopy of trees by him lake he breaks the silence that has been hanging over us like fog. "Hey," he pants. "I'm sorry if I did something to upset you back there." His eyes are so sincere, teeming with concern. But there's also a subtle hint of something else. Questioning curiosity. He won't ask for fear of upsetting me more, but his eyes can't lie._

_"It wasn't you," I sigh. "It's just... That rock."_

_He frowns and looks at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am. "The rock?"_

_"It was me and Gale's old hunting rendevous point," I manage to choke out. My head aches, and I don't feel like talking around the lump forming in my thoat. I blink back the tears burning in my eyes._

_My thoughts drift to other things that are gone. My sister. My home, my real home. Madge. My father, not that I don't think of him all the time. My thoughts, always spiriling downwards, bringing me to my knees and leaving me writhing on the ground._

_Peeta's face mirrors my pain. His arms are around me in a seond. But I don't cry. His presence steels me, makes me stronger._

_I bury my face in his should. He smells of bread and sweet things. And paint. The scent used to make me wrinkle my nose, but now I find the bitter aroma to be a comforting reminder of Peeta's existence._

_He rocks me back and forth, the way he used to when I had nightmares on the train car before our Games._

_I pull away, and he strokes my cheek. His previously pale face is now a bright red._

_"Peeta." I stifle a giggle. "You're sunburned!"_

_He touches his face and winces. Then he swoops in and kisses me for the first time in a month. He tastes like mint, and his lips are soft and gentle. Too gentle. I lean forward and deepen the kiss, exploding with a feeling that can only be defined as one thing: Unconditional love. And in this moment, I know there is nothing Peeta can do to make me stop loving him. Nothing in the world. And I know he felt the same from day one._

_"It doesn't matter," he whispers as he, much to my disapproval, pulls away._

_"You know, we can make new memories here. If you want to," he adds quickly._

_I shake my head. "You were right. I hate it out here. Maybe I'll come back in a few months."_

_"Good." He starts kissing my neck, and I wriggle away._

_"Stop," I say, a little forcefully. He's moving way too fast. But Peeta doesn't seem to notice. He scoops me up and I squeal._

_"Put me down!" I prostest, but good naturedly. After a playful brawl, I jump out of arms and take off, flying by the rock and forgetting that Peeta, is obviously giving me chase, is not as light on his feet as I am._

_"Oof!" Peeta crashes to the ground._

_I stop, expecting him to pick himself up and continue running. But he doesn't._

_Blood cold with fear, I hurry back to where he landed. By the rock, of course._

_"I can't move my wrist." He tells me. He is sitting, rubbing his lower left arm. "But I'm alright. Just needed to catch my breath._

_"Let me see." He holds up his wrist, which is swelling rapidly. Damn it. It has to be broken, but I am not my mother. I have no idea how to handle a broken bone besides what I remember from when my mother would heal the broken fingers of coal miners, which were common, and the time I broke my heel. This is different._

_"Ok," I say as calmly as I can. "Just stay here and-"_

_Peeta is already in his feet. "I'm fine," he insists again._

_"Peeta, your wrist is broken, probably in several places," I tell him exsasperatedly. "You took a hard fall."_

_He waves away my concerns. The circumstances have completely flip-flopped. Just a minute ago, he was worried about me._

_"I'm fine!"_

_I sigh. "If you say so." I shrug._

_Peeta ends up caving and I take him to the just barely fuctioning hospital. They say he broke three bones in his wrist and sprained his elbow. He also has several cuts and bruises._

_Perhaps races aren't as good fun as they seem._

But that was a long time ago, the first time I returned to the woods since the destruction of District 12, and Peeta's arm has long since healed.

Now we're back again.

Peeta rubs a hand over my belly, even though I'm not showing yet. I'm pregnant again. Even though I insisted it would never happen again. I've given in.

Kambrea, my child, my blisfully ignorant child who doesn't know that she is playing over a mass grave by the lake, latches onto Peeta's leg.

"Daddy!" She cries. I still can't believe she can speak. When she first did, I nearly cried. Our now two-year-old has grown before our very eyes. "I see a rabbit!"

Peeta nods, seemingly preoccupied.

After Kambrea has run off to play, he asks, "What do you want to name the baby?"

I am some what taken aback by this question. We didn't choose a name for Kambrea until she was BORN.

"We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl yet," I say.

Peeta just shrugs, unperturbed. "We can choose a boy and a girl name."

I lean my head on his shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, maybe Kaliope for a girl."

"Kaliope," I repeat. "That's pretty. What about for a boy?"

Peeta has a sly smile on his face. "Peeta Junior?"

I roll my eyes. "Seriously."

"You can choose."

I realize this is his way of saying, I can't think of anything. I voice this.

"No," he insists. "I have plenty of names. But I think you should choose."

"Why?" My names are likely to be disastrous.

"I have a feeling this one is going to be a boy." He plants a hand on my stomach.

"If you're so sure, why even choose a girl name?"

He grins. "Just in case."

I think for awhile, but nothing seems to strike me. However, it does perplex me that I never wanted this to happen, never wanted any children. I suppose I was scared. Scared to lose them to a cruel world with the Hunger Games. Scared to carry them, a prospect that still makes my skin crawl. But it's so worth it to have them in your arms.

"Go in the water," says Kambrea, grabbing my hand.

I take her out a few steps when the perfect name hits me. I smile to myself. Like wading in a shallow, cool lake. Wade.

When we get home, after I put Kambrea to bed, I announce the name to Peeta and Haymitch, who happens to be wandering aimlessly around our house.

"Like you needed another one," he grumbles. Now that cute Little Guy has been replaced with Terrible Two, Haymitch has had nothing but grief.

"This isn't about how many kids we have," I snap. "Do you like the name or not?"

"And if it's a girl?" Haymitch says evasively.

"It's not," Peeta cuts in, "going to be a girl."

"Alright, Mister Psychic. The name is fine." He opens the door, letting the warm spring air seep into the room.

I figure "fine" is the equivalent of "very good" from Haymitch, so I'm pleased.

As I settle into bed next to Peeta, I am at peace with myself. I have found the perfect name.

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**Oh, Katniss and Peeta. Must you always get into race-related trouble? Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.**

***I am not starting another chapter until I get reviews* This lets me know people are actually reading this story and want me to continue it. I was thinking everyone was getting uninterested when I only got like 2 reviews last time, but I decided to continue anyway. *Please Note This***

**Thanks and have a great summer!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, ya'll. I feel really bad about devoting all of my time to my other fanfic. This is not edited (A) Because it's like ten at night, (B) Because I literally finished this thirty seconds ago, just for you guys!**

**Reminder: If I don't get enough positive reviews, I will think no one is interested and stop writing this fic. All you really have to say is 'I'm still interested!' but I would appreciate a little more feed-back than that…**

**Enjoy!**

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***Katniss's POV***

I am starting to second guess my name choice. After all, what if it _is _another girl?

"At least you _chose _a new before hand this time," Haymitch grumbles when I ask him. He's been ornery lately. Maybe it's because he's getting old. But Peeta is happy as ever, bouncing around and making preparations for the baby that isn't coming for another seven months.

"I know it's going to be a boy," he says when I ask him why he's painting the walls blue. "I can feel it."

_Bet you won't be saying that when it's a girl, _I think, but I can't help but wonder if he's right. But how would he be able to tell, anyway? I'm the one carrying the child. Shouldn't _I _be the making these sorts of predictions? But it feels exactly the same way it did with Kambrea. Nothing until you least expected it.

Since I have nothing else to do, I watch Peeta turn the empty wall space of one of our endless supply of empty rooms, into a masterpiece.

It's a mural for generations. The background is sky blue, with clouds hanging in the air, looking as real as if you could reach out and touch them. Then comes the ground, high, brownish-green grasses with animals hiding at various intervals. Then the rock. And the lake.

"You're painting the Woods," I whisper. They are a complete likeness, like you could walk into it and be transported directly there.

Peeta only looks up at me long enough to nod. "I thought you knew that."

Kambrea comes in and sits next to me on the floor, totally enraptured by her father's glorious work of art. At least for a little while. Then she points to the wall, and then to herself, and then across the hall to her room.

"Me one," she says, giving me those eyes that only work on Haymitch and Peeta and my mother.

"I think she wants you to paint her one, too," I tell Peeta.

"Maybe I'll get around to it sometime," Peeta says absently.

"Me want it!" Kambrea whines.

"OK, OK, I'll paint you one, too," Peeta says soothingly. He always was a sucker for children; I guess that's why he wanted them so badly.

Kambrea jumps up and down and claps her hands. She's so sweet I find it hard to believe that I didn't want her at all…

"You know what you could do," Peeta says around the paint brush in his mouth. He always does that when he's surveying his work, "you could take Kambrea to the bakery for a bit. Have her help Selma." Selma the head baker when Peeta's not around. She's wonderful and we sometimes have her watch Kambrea.

"I think I'll do that," I murmur, getting up. "Come on, Kam."

The walk to the bakery isn't a long one, but it seems twice as long with a two-year-old in your wake. It seems like every moment, every second I'm trying to keep her out of something.

When she nearly upsets a stray nest of track jackers, my blood turns cold.

"NO!" I shriek.

She falls to the ground, just a foot or two short of it. She begins to cry.

Gasping, I reach my child in half of a second and hold her close. I'll have to tell the mayor about this.

"Shh," I quiet her.

When we get to the bakery and I set her down.

"Katniss," Selma greets. She's tall and exotic looking, from District 9 she says, but she's never told us much about herself. She a good baker, though, whatever her background. "You look…" She searches for the word. "Windswept."

"I found a tracker jacker nest on the path to town from the Village." Selma gives me a blank look.

"Tracker jacker?" She asks.

"Those bee sort mutts. They stung me during one of my Games," I say, reluctantly mentioning something from the wretched Games.

"Oh," she says. "Those."

"Well," I say, standing up and brushing off my pants. They strain a bit against my growing stomach, but I'll take every minute of wearing them to those horrid stretchy things I was forced to wear when I was pregnant with Kambrea. "Could you watch Kambrea for awhile while I got talk to someone about that?"

Selma smiles. "Of course I can. Come on Kam, we'll go bake a cake."

"Bake a cake?"

"Mmm hmm…"

I sigh contentedly, glad that Kambrea is as interested in baking as her father.

I do not relish going to the Mayor. He has quite a reputation for being, as Haymitch put it, "a pain in the ass." Perhaps it will different for me, considering I am one of the most respected people in the District, but somehow, I doubt it.

The Mayor should be at the Justice Building, so that's where I go.

"Hello, Mrs. Mellark," says the woman at the desk, Aticus, and I wince a little at my name. It's always been unnatural to me to be called anything else besides Katniss Everdeen. "How are you?"

I smile. "Alright. But I need to speak to the Mayor."

"Any complaints will be conveyed to him immediately," she replies. "So if you could write them down—"

I cut her off. "I'd much rather speak to directly," I insist.

"That won't be possible at this time."

I sigh, exasperated. I can't stand the thought of something threatening my child.

But I am me.

"Can't you pull some strings for the last ever victor?" I try.

"Nice try, Mrs. Mellark, but the mayor is very busy." Aticus smiles tightly. Perhaps I'll try to get Peeta in here instead, since he is so much better at manipulating words—and people.

"Don't think I'm going to let this go," I say, sounding a little more menacing than I had intended.

I here the woman taking in breath to say something, but I'm already out the door.

I pick up Kambrea at the bakery, thanking Selma and telling her we will be back tomorrow.  
Kambrea is so engrossed in watching Selma ice a cake, I have to drag her away screaming so we can go back home. The spitting image of Peeta.

I wish there was another way to get to the Victor's Village besides the tracker jacker infested path, but that would involve cutting through miles of woods, which I would have loved to do if I was alone and not with child, but unfortunately, Kambrea and I are forced to skirt around the next, which is buzzing so eerily it almost sends me into a state of panic.

"Daddy!" Kambrea shouts, taking no notice of me. I hadn't even noticed Peeta coming down the path.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I notice I am shaking slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asks, sounding like the deeply concerned man I fell in love with.

I shake him off and square my shoulders. "It's that," I whisper, so as not to alert Kambrea. I point to the nest.

Peeta's eye brows shoot up so high they are almost lost in his bangs, which I notice need a trim.

"It's almost like they're trying to mess with us," he says disgustedly. But who does he mean? The Capitol was abolished years ago now, down with the rebellion he played a major role in. "I'm going to go to the Justice Building and demand they have that removed."

"I've already tried," I say tiredly.

"But I haven't." He looks grim. Then he kisses my cheek gently. "You take Kambrea back to the house; I'll take care of this."

Later that evening, Peeta tells me the nest turned out to be just a regular bee hive, not the deadly tracker jackers we thought them to be. He also tells me that Aticus was happy to have him come storming into the Justice Building demanding that something that no longer exists be destroyed.

"I finished Kambrea's room, too," he whispers, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me upstairs and around the corner. Then he opens the door.

The smell of wet paint is noxious, but it's soon forgotten when I see the scene he's painted: It's me. A smaller version, of course but I'm still there, tucked away I a tree, looking down at the nest of tracker jackers and the campfire below, a group of people gathered beneath it. It's not the only thing on the wall, but it catches my attention the fastest. Peeta has painted an Arena, but somehow, it looks beautiful, acceptable, not the place of murder it really was.

"It's amazing," I breathe.

He swoops down and kisses me. "Maybe we'll be able to explain it all to them someday." He puts a hand on my belly.

"Maybe. But if we do, we'll definitely start here."

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**If you haven't noticed yet, this story has no plot! Lol, just kidding, it does have a **_**little**_** plot… Sort of.  
Now that that's out in the open, review and let me know what you think! You know the rules! Also, I never cease to amaze myself with my ability to take almost a month to write a chapter that's only a thousand words… Sorry to keep you waiting, guys! Like REALLY, **_**really, **_**really**** sorry! **

**Tata! **


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